Harry Potter and The Hollow Heart
by applebuttgenes
Summary: Harry Potter did NOT put his name into the Goblet of Fire. But then, who did? Complete AU.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

In a colossal enclosed arena marred by numerous rocky boulders and boxed off by magic wards, a dragon perched on the highest rise.

The dragon gazed around herself and observed the thousands of humans that were looking at her in awe and fear. This wasn't a new experience for her as she had been taken to all sorts of dragon shows countless times and everytime the reactions to her appearance were the same. No one could deny that she was a beautiful dragon. She had been well-cared for since her birth in the dragon reserve.

She looked down from her perch to see her eggs that rested in a nest; her motherly instincts promising her they would be hatching soon. It had only been a few days since she had been relocated to this place.

The last time she had hatched eggs was memorable, not only because it was a momentous occasion but also because of what had happened after it.

Wistfully, the dragon recalled the shiny sheen on her eggs that had indicated good health. It was all she could do not to rage at the unfairness of life.

She had woken up in her cave in the dragon reserve a few days after the hatching, to find her offspring gone and no sign of them. She had kept looking for them in extreme rage and somehow managed to break out of the reserve. The enraged mother had set on fire several buildings in the closest village before she was tired enough to be subdued by the dragon handlers.

She had continued to grieve until another dragon had come to her, wishing to mate with her. This mate of hers had managed to calm her down. After helping her conceive the eggs now in front of her, he had flown away into the night and never returned, which was a shame because she had really liked him.

Coming back to the present, she had no idea what the arena was for or why the large number of stick-bearers were watching her with such interest, but she gave a huge roar nevertheless. She felt elated at how quickly they had been silenced.

She barely registered the announcer who had been talking the whole time as a disturbance in the arena caused thunderous applause to be raised from the audience.

The mother dragon swivelled her large head to look at the disturbance, her instincts warning her of incoming danger. She focused exclusively on the young stick-bearer that came into the clearing and tuned everything else out.

With apprehension and a foreboding that he was going to take away her eggs, the dragon decided to let out a huge roar in warning.

The roar made the human pause in his step and hold one hand to his head as though in pain, but ultimately did not dissuade him from continuing to advance toward her. The noises from the crowd had risen enormously and this annoyed her also.

As she decided the threat was real, she gave another huge roar that sounded like a battle cry and leapt off the high rise. She glided for a bit and then landed in front of the boy with such force that shockwaves could be felt around the area.

The mother of dragons bared her teeth and made a deep growling noise. She was starting to get annoyed and prepared to defend her children. No one would take away her family from her again.

Just as she opened her mouth to breath fire at him, the boy spoke.

"Halt, Great Dragon!" he said.

It was strange she could understand what he was trying to say since she had never been able to do so besides inferring simple things that the dragon handlers wanted her to do.

So, in her surprise, she let go of her aggressiveness and the child continued to speak.

"I am sorry for disturbing your afternoon in such a way, but one of the eggs in your nest-" he paused and pointed past her to her nest, which made her growl in anger. So he raised his hands in the universal gesture of placation and continued, "One of the eggs is fake and not yours."

The dragon visibly tensed and growled at him. "I merely wish to remove it from your nest. The egg is useless to you since it is a fake and hence I ask of you, Great Dragon, to let me take it away."

The Horntail bounded over to her nest to investigate and upon inspecting, found the fake one and let loose a long deep roar that caused the entire crowd to squirm uncomfortably in their seats as they began to feel insecure.

She turned back to the boy and noticed he had moved very close to her and the nest. She glared at him but listened intently as he praised her terrible beauty and fearsome demeanour and finally asked her again to simply let him take away the fake golden egg.

The dragon did not say anything and the child took that as his cue and moved towards her nest slowly and carefully. The announcer was talking excitedly over the din formed by the crowd, while the dragon watched every move of the child with suspicion.

Suddenly the young stick-bearer stumbled and clutched his head with both hands as he moaned in pain. The dragon was startled at the sudden motion and as the boy fell down on the ground before the nest, she grew agitated.

There was a sudden loud noise as one of the eggs cracked.

Dragon eggs never hatched alone. If at all a dragon egg were hatching, it would hatch with the rest. So if a single egg had cracked, the dragon thought, it meant the boy had damaged it in some way...

The boy shook his head and stood up. He looked around at the crowd as he noticed the sudden drop in noise. Then he turned to look at the dragon. All he could see was the glowing inside of the dragon's maw as she prepared to breath fire at him.

"Well, shit!" was all he could say as all hell broke loose...


	2. Sorting

**Chapter 1** **:** Sorting

"SLYTHERIN!"

Polite applause rang out as an 11 year-old blue-eyed blonde gave back the talking hat to the witch Professor behind her. She walked to the table under the green and silver banners and sat down beside a bulky-looking girl.

"Bulstrode, wasn't it?" The blonde asked, after she had settled down.

"Yes. And you are Daphne Greengrass. Nice to meet you." Bulstrode replied.

The sorting of the new students had been going on while they were busy introducing themselves. Megan Jones had been sent to Hufflepuff during that time.

Students were being sorted into the various houses. Daphne cringed when "Malfoy, Draco!" was called, and was not surprised when he was immediately sorted into Slytherin.

As the names were being called, there was some disturbance from the table with the red and gold banners. They seemed to be murmuring amongst each other. Something like "-otter. Where's he?"

 _Ah… yes. Potter. Harry Potter._

Saviour of the magical world.  
Survivor of the killing curse.  
Bane of the Dark Lord– He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

It seemed that anywhere she turned these days, she would hear of the legend that was Harry Potter. She had, of course, like almost every girl her age (and some boys as well, in her opinion) harboured somewhat of a crush on the unseen legend.

She had been reading most of the stories written about him since she was a kid. She knew that he was barely a year younger than her, which meant that he would be at Hogwarts this year.

She looked at the line of students still waiting to get sorted and scanned excitedly for her childhood crush. She didn't expect him to be sorted into Slytherin and they would likely not be best friends in the future, but she at least wanted to get a good first look at him.

"Patil, Padma!" had gone to Ravenclaw, followed by "Patil, Parvati!" who found her place at the Gryffindor table.

Daphne barely registered that twins had been sorted into different houses. There was a steady increase in noise in the Hall as students rose up to have a first look at their saviour.

"Perks, Sally-Ann!" was sorted into Ravenclaw as well. But not many cared as they all looked at the next student in line, more and more people excitedly joining in the chant of "Harry Potter! Harry Potter!" that had begun spontaneously.

But everyone fell silent when the Professor reading the list of names called out, over the noise -  
"SMITH, ZACHARIAS!"

Daphne watched as Smith walked forward and sat at the stool and had one small glimpse of stunned and disappointed faces before his eyes met the darkness that came as the hat was put over his head.

 _Well, that's disappointing. What do I tell grandfather now?_

* * *

A 107 year-old Lord was returning home from a long and tedious day at the Wizengamot hearing. He always hated going to that damn courtroom. He would be required to return next week; they hadn't been able to pass the law this time.

Lord Darius Greengrass was _not_ a "weak, old man with old age… problems", as Lord Avery had been so observant to point out during the Wizengamot session of a few weeks ago. It was actually quite the contrary. He could easily take down 3 of those damned Death Eaters back in the day, and even though he _was_ indeed getting old, he did not doubt for a second his ability in combat.

He had made it a point to attend every single Wizengamot meeting there was, ever since he'd become a lord, just like his father and his grandfather before him.

Darius's thoughts moved towards that old man who had visited him about 4 years earlier and made a deal with him. He just had to make sure he did everything exactly the way that man had wanted him to. And the first of those instructions was to make his eldest granddaughter a friend of Harry Potter.

Lord Greengrass sighed heavily as he entered his study and took out one his favourite cigars to remember the day he had never become accustomed to– the day his wife had died several years ago.

" _Look after them, Darius. Queenie and Tori will need you now more than ever. Make sure to keep them happy, always."_ She had said, in between laboured breaths.

" _Of course, my love."_ He had replied, even as tears threatened to fall.

She had died… in an incredible amount of pain and sadness.

Simply because their son had wanted to follow the Dark Lord's orders, instead of listening to his parents.

 _I made a promise Madeline and I_ will _keep it._

* * *

Ronald Weasley was not the happiest of persons at the moment. He had expected Harry Potter to be on the train and was disappointed when he wasn't able to locate him. Surely, he would have seen him in the castle, right?

But, he wasn't even on the list of names of students admitted this year. Disappointed, yes… he was extremely disappointed.

* * *

Rita Skeeter believed herself to be an exemplary sensational journalist extraordinaire. She had somehow been able to get reliable information that Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, was going to go to Hogwarts this year.

She had gone, as quickly as her legs could take her, to the editor's office at the Daily Prophet in London. She had simply pushed open the door, given the editor her article, and left. She had no doubt it would be put in the next morning's paper.

That had been a few weeks ago. Now, as she sat there looking at the newspaper that had earned her a pay raise, she wondered if her source would give her more material for another article on the Potter boy.

It didn't matter. She was confident she had more than enough material for another article. She would continue to write good things about dear Harry until she got enough incriminating information. And then…

After all… the only thing people loved more than seeing their heroes praised– was to watch them fall.

* * *

Even as Rita Skeeter was planning her tirade of spying on Harry Potter, most Hogwarts students were writing home letters that would leave her reputation as an untrustworthy liar, for many weeks to come.

* * *

 **A/N:** Remember to **REVIEW** so I know what you're thinking.


	3. Flying Lessons

**Chapter 2:** Flying Lessons

"Look!" said Draco Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's grandmother sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"That's Neville's. Give that here, Malfoy," said Ronald Weasley. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"Yes. It's Longbottom's. Not yours. I bet your family couldn't even _afford_ one, Weasley." Ron's face slowly turned red. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for him to find – how about – up a tree?"

"Give it _here_!" Ron yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying when he had said that he could fly well. He was hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak.

"Come and get it, Weasley!" Draco called from his spot.

Ron grabbed his broom.

" _No!"_ shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble."

Ron ignored her. He mounted his broom and kicked hard against the ground, and soared ten feet high… then immediately started falling. The broom slowed his descent somewhat, but he still fell face down into a puddle of water.

Draco and most of the other Slytherin first years started to laugh, and so did some of the meaner Gryffindors, but they stopped quickly and hid their smiles behind their hands.

Malfoy had kept hovering in the air, still chuckling. He made his way to the tall oak tree and put the red-glowing sphere into its branches. He knew he had better get down fast if he didn't want to lose house points or get into trouble.

 _Let's face it. Even if that instructor came and saw me up here, who would expel a_ Malfoy _?_

"DRACO MALFOY!"

He turned on his broom to look down at an irate Professor McGonagall.

 _Merlin's balls! The hag!_

The Scotswitch glared at the blonde-haired boy still hovering in the sky for a moment and then roared, "Get down here. _Now!_ "

"Yes, Professor!" Draco descended and immediately landed a few feet away from her.

"Professor?" A voice called from behind the professor.

"Yes, Mr Weasley?" She turned to look at the red-haired boy with mud on his face. The irritation was clear on her face.

"Madam Hooch told us not to move, but Malfoy–"

"Professor McGonagall! I was just checking the broom movements out on the _ground_ when I suddenly lost control and got up there."

"Somehow, I find that _really_ hard to believe, Mr Malfoy. Ten points from Slytherin for such an absurd lie. You will also serve detention with Mr Filch tonight for blatant disregard of a teacher's instructions."

Behind the teacher's back, Ron stuck his tongue out at Draco and grinned.

"Mr Weasley will be joining you as well."

"But Professor-"

"Ten points from Gryffindor as well. I saw you up there too, Mr Weasley. Do you think I'm lying and unnecessarily putting you in detention for something that you didn't do?"

Ron looked disbelievingly at the Professor for a moment then shook his head. It was Draco's turn to grin.

"All right, students, back to your dormitories. Madam Hooch has asked me to inform you that flying lessons have been cancelled for today."

Most of the students made relieved noises, and began heading towards their respective common rooms.

"Mr Weasley, do clean up." The Professor sniffed her nose in disgust.

"Yes, Professor." Ron sighed.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass had watched the commotion with disinterest. She didn't think Malfoy could get a bigger head than he already had, but this incident would likely make his ego inflate a lot more. She sighed as she walked with her classmates back to the common room.

She suddenly remembered that Neville's Remembrall was still stuck in the tree. She did not have much contact with the Longbottom family, but she remembered that Neville and she had gone to the same preschool and had been friendly with each other. She felt that she should help return his Remembrall now that his arm was broken.

The pretty blue-eyed girl decided to wait back until the Slytherin mob of students had gone back to the common room (so that they wouldn't ask unnecessary questions), and then headed to Professor McGonagall's office to ask for her help.

As she was walking, she looked at the courtyard where they had their flying lessons and saw the Professor still there.

But she was not alone. There was a boy there as well– a boy from her class. She couldn't remember his name, but he was the one to whom Professor Snape had seemed to give a lot more attention than to anyone else in their first class.

As she neared the duo, she saw that the boy had the Remembrall in his hand.

She heard the Professor say "- been over the moon seeing you like that. Your mother would have been horrified, but proud nonetheless." Daphne thought she heard grief as well as happiness in her voice, as though she were talking about long lost friends.

She decided she had better leave so as not to get in the way of what was certainly a private conversation.

"Miss Greengrass, I didn't see you there."

"Umm… Professor, I just came back to tell you that Neville's Remembrall was stuck in a tree," Daphne said to her, hoping that the Professor didn't realize that she had heard part of their conversation. "But… umm… you seem to have taken care of it already, so… I was just leaving."

 _Okay… this is not awkward at all._

She thought she saw the boy look at her suspiciously, but the Professor gave her a tiny smile.

"That's very nice of you Miss Greengrass, but we took care of it. Three points to Slytherin for going out of your way to help a fellow student."

"Umm… thanks Professor." Daphne smiled and turned to go back the way she came.

 _What do you know? Points for helping a student!_

"Hold up there Miss Greengrass. We were going that way as well; if you don't mind our company," the Professor asked.

"Not at all, Professor!"

The trio now walked to the corridor in silence and up to Professor McGonagall's office. The two students said goodbyes to the Professor and started to move towards the Staircase.

"Err… I was going to see Neville in the hospital wing. You want me to give him a message? You seem to know him." The boy asked Daphne.

"It's fine. I don't really know him that well," Daphne said immediately. "I was just going to tell the Professor about the Remembrall so she could take it to him." She looked around and upon finding no one else, said in a quiet voice, "Please don't tell anyone that I was trying to help Neville. If my housemates find out, they might give me a hard time."

"Okay, I guess," was the casual response she got.

They continued walking until they reached the Staircase.

"So… I'll be seeing you in class then."

"Huh? Oh, yeah see you." He replied, and continued up the staircase, looking as though his mind was someplace else. She wondered if he was thinking about what Professor McGonagall had told him.

She quietly moved back to the dungeons where the Slytherin dormitory was located. As she muttered "Pureblood" to a stone wall that instantly vaporized to reveal a passage through to the common room, she suddenly realized… that she still hadn't learnt that boy's name.

* * *

A red-haired witch sat looking outside her window contemplating the reason for Harry Potter's absence from the wizarding world so far. He had not been seen since that fateful Halloween night and only Dumbledore knew where he'd been taken. Whenever asked by reporters, Dumbledore would say the same thing-

"Harry Potter is at his relatives' home and in safety."

She recalled that one evening, some four years ago, when Dumbledore had come to their home and had very politely yet urgently urged to see her brother's rat, Scabbers. He had cast a few obscure charms while waving his wand all around the house.

While everyone had been looking at the old man in bewilderment, her brother had brought Scabbers to the Headmaster. It was apparent to everyone that when it suddenly looked at Dumbledore's face, it had begun struggling for its life as it tried to escape. However, it had found itself at the end of a wand, which suddenly shot a red spell (which she was told later was a stunning spell) at the rat.

Dumbledore had then packed the rat in a cloth and conjured a cage for it. He had then excused himself saying he wanted to be absolutely _certain_ about _things_ before they could be told to the Weasley family. He had then left via Floo, taking the rat with him.

Her parents had sighed and told their children not to worry. They had always been firm believers of Dumbledore's abilities and had decided a long time ago not to question him on his eccentricities.

A week after the weird rat incident, Sirius Black's name had suddenly popped up on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Black had been brought in front of the Wizengamot for some reason and he claimed to have never received a trial. He had also claimed to not be responsible for the crimes of murdering twelve muggles or betraying the trust of his closest friends, the Potters.

Instead (and she'd believed this was the best part) he blamed it all on Peter Pettigrew, the man he had presumably murdered with dark magic. When asked if he had ever supported the Dark Lord, he had angrily replied in the negative.

Because ministry officials had administered Veritaserum to verify his claims, the fact was that he couldn't be lying. Of course then, just to be _completely_ sure there wasn't anything wrong with the potion, they had repeated the test more than three times with different vials of the same potion.

The Weasley parents and the eldest brothers had been stumped. They had known, as had several other people that Sirius Black was Harry Potter's godfather. And when he had betrayed the trust of his friends, they had been very angry, yet devastated that such people could be betrayed by someone they thought as close as family.

The article had also said that Peter Pettigrew was indeed alive and was an animagus (a wizard able to take the form of an animal on will). He was living as a rat in a certain wizarding home before Dumbledore had apprehended him.

Peter Pettigrew was also administered Veritaserum, and upon his questioning, he agreed that everything Black had said was the correct version of events. He also agreed that he was a follower of the Dark Lord and that he would have done anything for him.

The Weasleys had felt extremely disgusted that a grown man had stayed at a home full of children disguised as a rat. Fortunately, that was also added to his list of crimes.

Sirius Black was then unanimously voted not guilty given the damnable evidence against Pettigrew. He was released, but not before he had kicked Peter Pettigrew in the groin and spat in his face.

Within a few weeks, the new _Lord_ Sirius Black had received official apologies from the Ministry and several pureblood families. It was decreed by the Wizengamot that for wrongful imprisonment (in Azkaban, no less) he be paid an amount of fifteen thousand galleons as compensation.

The Daily Prophet had quoted him saying, "I don't really care about incompetent Ministry officials trying to make it up to me. I'm only going to look after my godson now. Merlin only knows what he's been up to all these years."

Only a few weeks before today, Rita Skeeter's article had come out saying that it was certain Harry Potter would be going to Hogwarts this year. Everyone in the wizarding world was excited to be reminded of the great hero. Conversations at the Burrow would often contain something or the other relevant to him.

A familiar knock at her bedroom door alerted her to her mother's presence.

"Ginny, come down for dinner now dear," A kind voice called from outside the door.

"Coming mum!" She called back immediately, and heard her mother's footsteps slowly fade away.

The letter Ron had sent informing them that Harry Potter was not at Hogwarts was like a blow to her. She had often daydreamt what meeting Harry Potter would be like. She had imagined him to be like a prince, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles and calling her the prettiest witch he had ever seen.

Ginny sighed heavily.

She decided that going down immediately would be for the best and moved to the door. She left the room with the posters of witches flying on broomsticks and raven-haired boys with green eyes swishing their wands, and began her descent down the stairs.

 _Hope I don't fall asleep before I write something in that diary who calls himself_ Tom _._


	4. The Evans Boy

**Chapter 3:** The Evans Boy

When Dumbledore had brought the child in and the nurse had taken her first look at him, she had instantly known he had been close to death. She had immediately started working her healing magic, but had also stared in awe at the boy's magic reacting to help her. Not that she hadn't seen something like that in the past; however, those times were growing exceedingly rare. (She attributed it to unhealthy eating, a sedentary lifestyle…)

She finally chalked it up to him being a more powerful wizard than the rest.

Nevertheless, it should have taken him about five days to recover. Now some 36 hours after he had been brought in, he was sitting up, smiling and laughing at jokes those Weasley twins were sprouting (she was certain they were beginning the corruption of the child), while reassuring a Muggleborn student (she didn't really know her name) who was there as well, that he was fine.

He had received a lot of candy from friends and well-wishers. Many students had come to wish him a speedy recovery. She always saw someone at his bedside, talking or joking.

Whenever it was time for his potions, he would ask her when he could leave. She would sigh and say soon. He would pout and make groaning noises at that.

The matronly nurse knew that his healing rate was amazingly fast for someone his age, and could not help but wonder what was causing that. His magical core seemed to be above average for his age, but that was normal. His body was lean, yet healthy. All her diagnostic charms yielded normal results.

The boy sure looked like he was going to do fine. She sighed.

Madam Pomfrey walked to her office and began signing the discharge papers for Chris.

* * *

Hermione Granger was not called the brightest witch of her generation for no reason. Her brain was always filled with ideas and tactics she could use to study more or study better. She would notice certain things before anyone else did, and was constantly on the lookout for bullies. She had had enough of them and frankly, she had thought Hogwarts would have been different.

But boy was she wrong. It had begun in her third month at Hogwarts. People had begun calling her "Mudblood". She had noticed that they were almost all of them Slytherins.

Just to sate her curiosity, she had gone looking for the word, and come to realize (by asking different people and researching books) that it was a racist term for those who have non-magical parents.

She had thought about writing to her parents about it, but thought better of it. They would probably have removed her at once, given that they hadn't wanted to send her in the first place.

Then there was Draco Malfoy, who would constantly torment her, in addition to calling her a Mudblood. He would throw random ingredients into her cauldron in Potions. He would wait for the right moment outside the Great Hall to trip her.

She had begun to lose her mind.

It was her fourth month at Hogwarts when she had finally begun to think that things couldn't get any worse.

So naturally Ronald Weasley had talked bad about her after a Charms class, thinking she couldn't hear him. All the sorrow and pain she had kept bottled up until now had begun to catch up to her.

She had run past him seemingly flying over stairs until she had reached an empty corridor where she thought nobody ever came. She had broken down crying so badly, she didn't even hear a Slytherin couple come up to her. When she finally looked up through tear-stricken eyes, she saw them.

They had simply laughed at her face and called her a Mudblood.

She had run away from there, but she didn't want to go to the common room yet. So, she had gone to an abandoned bathroom, where she usually went to cry after people had called her a Mudblood.

Didn't Ronald realize that she was only trying to help him? Every person she had ever tried to help would tell her to go away. Was she _that_ obnoxious? Neville was the only person who had ever wanted to talk her after she had helped him. There was one more, but he was mostly too self-absorbed to notice she really needed friends, since she didn't have any.

By the time she had calmed down enough to look at her watch, she realized it was time for the Halloween Feast. She decided to wash her face and get something to eat otherwise she would have to go hungry.

But of course, out of nowhere, a troll had come into the bathroom swinging its club madly.

 _Just my luck._

She couldn't do anything. She didn't know any spell she could use against the troll. She was sorted into the house of the braves, but she could do nothing more than stand there petrified, staring at the humongous monster that was going to be her doom.

She had closed her eyes, hoping for a painless death when-

"Hey, Ugly. Over here!" a voice had suddenly called out from behind the troll.

The very voice that had her contemplating her life choices in a bathroom currently occupied by a troll.

The unmistakable voice of Ronald Weasley.

While a part of her brain was still registering the reason Ronald was there, and another part was still wondering whether he had been calling _her_ ugly instead of the troll, yet another part noticed Neville Longbottom standing beside Ronald, a steel tap in his hand.

Neville threw the tap in the direction opposite to her, hoping to distract the troll.

It had the intended effect as the dumbass troll began walking towards the steel tap, looking for the source of the sound.

Hermione didn't even know _when_ Chris had gotten behind her, but he had pushed her to start walking.

And that's when all the pieces of her brain had started to work in tandem.

She had realized that these were people who had come to get her. They must have likely heard about the troll from the Professors and instead of going to safety, had come looking for her.

Only then did her mind begin to think of ways to get out of the current situation. She would simply have to thank them later.

They were all first-years and even together would not be able to take care of the troll on their own. She realized they had to run away from the bathroom and get a Professor or the Headmaster to come down there. She also realized Chris was now half-carrying her towards the exit.

Suddenly, Chris pushed her to the ground as the troll swung a gigantic club over their heads. He waited a moment to look at the troll, then helped her up and moved her behind a cubicle.

They heard a few more clatters as Neville and Ron kept distracting it, giving them reprieve from the angered troll. As soon as the troll moved away from them, they moved silently yet quickly towards the exit.

With all four Gryffindors in relative safety, they looked at each other for a moment, hearing the noises the numbskull troll was making in the bathroom, and ran for Professor McGonagall's office.

* * *

A short, plump, round-faced blonde sat at the Gryffindor table, eagerly awaiting news about his friend, Chris.

Sitting beside him, his friend Hermione Granger was looking at a huge banner behind the staff table showing the Ravenclaw eagle, while Ron was grinning at an angry, purple-faced Draco Malfoy. The Great Hall was decked out in blue and bronze to celebrate Ravenclaw's victory this year.

Malfoy had lost his house a significant amount of points due to late night curfew-breaking. It had the immediate effect of making him a pariah within Slytherin.

Neville said something that made both his friends look at him in surprise. "I lost so many points for Gryffindor this year. Snape seemed to be out to murder me every time I saw him…" He sighed. "If it weren't for me, Gryffindor would have definitely won this year," Neville Longbottom said sadly, shaking his head.

"But Neville-" Hermione started.

"It's true and you know it."

"Yeah sure mate, you talk as though you were the only one." Ron interfered. "Remember how many points he took from Chris? And me? He seemed to have a different kind of hate for Chris, though."

Neville looked at Ron and chuckled. "Well, to be honest that actually makes me feel a lot better– that I'm not the only one keeping Gryffindor from the Cup."

"Don't worry mate, we are definitely going to beat them next year." Ron said decisively. "For one, we have Hermione on our side. You _know_ how many points she gets from the Professors for answering questions in class. I don't think I would have made it through the exams if she weren't helping us."

"Yeah Hermione, you're a _genius_. I can't thank you enough for your help with Potions." Neville added.

Ron Weasley said with conviction and with a sage nod, "Let's face it. You really are the brightest witch of our generation!"

Hermione blushed furiously under the praise. "You really think so?"

"Everyone knows that, whether or not it's advertised in the newspaper." Neville glanced at the Slytherin table. "Those Slytherins just don't want to accept it because they _know_ you'll be a better witch than them one day. So, the only thing they _can_ do is to trouble you now."

They sat there in silence for a while, remembering that time when a trio of third year Slytherins had called her a Mudblood outside the Great Hall. How she had looked on in awe when Chris had gotten so angry that he had punched each of their noses out, before Ron and Neville had joined in and started kicking them in the shins.

"Slytherin clowns," Neville said, and they all chuckled remembering how embarrassed the Slytherins had been when they found out that Madam Pomfrey was in the Great Hall having lunch and they would have to go through the Hall to get to her to heal them. The Weasley twins were the first to notice their bleeding noses and had proceeded to give them that nickname which had somehow stuck when the whole school had laughed at the trio of Slytherins.

Chris had been in the hospital wing for three days now. When they had gone to visit him, Hermione had known right away that something was bothering her friend. Neville had also admitted to noticing something wrong with his mood. Ron was, as always, clueless.

They hadn't known that Chris would be coming to the leaving feast. When he did come through the door though, there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once.

"-one of the kids that rescued that girl from the troll. Doesn't _look_ anything special-"

"-heard he killed Quirrell-"

"-Chris, don't know his last-"

"-that the Defense teacher was a thief who was going-"

Neville looked at Chris's pained face. He waved at Chris who saw his hand and made his way towards them and took a seat beside Ron, across from Hermione and Neville.

Neville and Hermione looked at each other and were about to ask him what was bothering him when Dumbledore stood to give his end-of-term speech.

Dumbledore went on about school unity and something like, "Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts."

The four of them had looked at each other and chuckled.

When Dumbledore had proceeded to award the House Cup to Ravenclaw, three-fourths of the school had erupted in applause and cheer so loud you would think they'd all won. The fact was that they had indeed won- in breaking the Slytherin win streak.

Snape shook hands with Professor Flitwick, and gave a horrible, forced smile. Neville swore he saw Snape catching Chris' eye, and they had some sort of silent conversation that ended when Snape gave Chris a look of loathing.

* * *

"It's not there, Daphne," said a voice from the darkness.

"Wh-What's not there?" The piteously timid voice of Daphne Greengrass asked.

The other person sighed after coming out of the shadows of the night. He was a first year like Daphne. He had messy dirty blonde hair and emerald green eyes and was barely an inch taller than her.

The boy whispered, in a low voice that was just enough to hear, "The Mirror."

Daphne looked at him for a moment, then lost control of her knees and burst out crying.

The boy looked extremely uncomfortable. He decided to comfort the blonde girl with a hug. She gave in easily and sobbed against his chest. He held her there in the cold, damp darkness of the classroom, while feeling the tears wetting his shirt.

After a while, her sobs subsided and she asked without looking up at him, "How do you know about the mirror?"

The boy smiled. "Broke curfew once; tried escaping from Filch and found this classroom to hide." He shook his head sadly. "Since then, I come up here every night to try and see it again."

"Then where is it now?" Daphne asked weakly. "It's not been here for a week."

"Probably with Dumbledore. I-I think he may have destroyed it." Daphne sobbed for a few more minutes.

"Whatever it is you saw in-in _there_ ," the boy began softly, afraid of setting off the waterworks again, "was just an illusion. It shows your deepest, most desperate desires all in a single reflection. I too wanted to have a last look, but I forgot it isn't here anymore."

The pretty blue-eyed girl was only sniffling now. 'Probably run out of tears by now,' the boy thought. He didn't know how long they sat there, him holding her close, on the cold stone floor, before he decided to offer her his handkerchief. The girl took it from his hand and looked at his face for a moment, then pulled back immediately as though slapped.

"You're that boy from Gryffindor, who gets into all sorts of trouble every day." The girl said while dabbing her face with the handkerchief.

"Hey, I don't..." The boy rubbed the back of his head, sheepishly. "Well, not _every day_. That Quirrell thing was just... uh... I don't know. Yeah, maybe I do get into trouble all the time." He looked at the green badge on her chest and stopped speaking. "A little fun doesn't hurt anybody," he muttered.

The girl moved to a bench at the back of the classroom, but kept staring at him. She looked undecided whether she should ask him something. But her curiosity won out. "Is it okay if I ask about what happened with Professor Quirrell?"

The boy sighed. "Well... it's not like _everyone_ wants to know about _that_." He muttered to himself, but she heard nonetheless.

"I'm sorry. Its fine if you don't want to tell me." Daphne said timidly.

"Nah, it's cool." The girl raised an eyebrow. "I spent some time in America. Picked up a few words and stuff." She nodded. "Now... as for your query, it's completely okay to ask me. Whether or not I'm going to tell… is dependent on my mood."

"And pray tell, just _what_ mood are you in right now?" She seemed to have gotten out of her emotional girly state and was now getting annoyed with the way he kept making the conversation longer.

"A contemplative one," He said mysteriously. "Should I become storyteller for a pretty girl or leave and go to bed right now?" Said pretty girl had a slight tinge of pink in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the aftereffects of crying. The blonde-haired boy cupped his chin in contemplation. He muttered on about something that sounded like _chicks dig_ and _stories_ _and gossip._

He sighed. "Storyteller," He finally decided. "Just don't tell anyone. Promise?" She nodded. "I wanted to talk to someone about it; don't know why but I haven't even been able to tell my friends yet." He took a deep breath and began his tale.

He explained to her how Dumbledore had kept the philosopher's stone in a room located at the forbidden third floor corridor. He then went on to tell her how a first year had figured it all out and gotten the stone by his lonesome. He explained the traps in detail and how he had gotten past them. He also recalled how it was Quirrell who was after the stone and had followed the boy into the room. And then the epic showdown just before he passed out, also detailing the battle with Quirrellmort.

Daphne was a good listener. She had sat quietly throughout the story. As soon as he ended though, she began her barrage of questions. "So you're telling me that Dumbledore put one of the most desired objects in the magical world, in a school full of children, raised their curiosity by telling them that the place he had stored it at, was forbidden, and _you_ ," she took a deep breath, "A first year _student_ , managed to get past his traps _and_ come out alive?" She narrowed her eyes and he couldn't help but think she was _cute._ "Also, he hired the person who had you-know-who stuck on the back of his head and also went after the stone." Blondie boy nodded. "He also saw fit not to tell anyone that you-know-who is still alive?" She said with anger laced in her voice. "Did I miss anything?" He shook his head, his eyes shining with amusement. "Is he bloody _mental_?" She finally ended her rant.

The boy tut-tutted. "Language, Daphne." She blushed. "And people already call him senile, so... yeah maybe he _is_ bloody _mental_." Daphne chuckled.

"But seriously though, _why_ would he do this?"

"Well, I personally think he was trying to gauge how well I would do and frankly, that's the only reason I can think of for him putting up first-year level of traps." He had cupped his chin in contemplation again. "The only worthwhile trap was the mirror and that would not work for anyone who wanted the stone for themselves, so the mirror alone could serve as enough protection."

"Dumbledore must have had his reasons, but there seem to be no good ones in this case." She waited for a moment before continuing, "Do you have any idea _why_ you were able to burn Quirrell to a crisp with your bare hands?"

"Dumbledore had a few theories; the best he could come up with was my mother's blood protection." His hands immediately shot up to his mouth.

She noticed his action and tried to decode what he had said by talking into account his entire story. "Wait, what did you mean "gauge how well you would do"?" He remained silent and looked everywhere but at her face.

Her eyes widened as another piece of the puzzle came into place. "Chris, what did you say your full name was again?"

Blondie boy, finally recognized as Chris, sighed heavily. "Christopher Jameson Evans. People call me Chris Evans."

* * *

 **A/N:**  
Due to popular demand (for the most part), Daphne/Harry is going to be the pairing.

REASONS for choosing Daphne–  
1\. Can be written as an OC.  
2\. Draco marries Astoria in canon; tension is created if Harry/Daphne.  
3\. Romance angle because Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry

Without revealing anything more, let me tell you something important. This story will undoubtedly be **dark**. I'm not revealing whether Harry is going to be dark, but the story itself is going to be dark. Definitely. You ain't seen nothin' yet.

So, if you're afraid of the dark (Heh! Geddit? Afraid of the...), do not continue to read this fic.

Please **REVIEW.**


	5. What Doesn't Kill You

**Chapter 4:** What Doesn't Kill You...

Lord Sirius Black sat on a bench at Platform nine and three quarters, awaiting his godson's return from Hogwarts. He was under a glamour charm in order to avoid attracting undue attention from the people awaiting the students of Hogwarts.

He looked at the advertisement board and smiled at the name of his company, _Marauders Inc._ displayed prominently amongst the other ads.

He recalled the round-the-world trip he had undertaken two years ago, along with his godson and his best friend, Remus "Moony" Lupin. All three of them hated crowds for various reasons, and had kept to themselves most of the time. When they returned to Britain six months later, they had all made several happy memories.

On the advice of Headmaster Dumbledore, Sirius had agreed to put himself and his godson under heavy glamour before leaving for their trip, to prevent his godson from being recognized and to save him from the many hordes of fans and gawking at his scar that would undoubtedly start taking place once he was sighted in the magical world. They had also hoped that he would be safe from Death Eaters and other Voldemort supporters meaning him harm.

When it was time for his godson to go to Hogwarts, Dumbledore had thought it best to continue to keep him hidden while at school. Sirius had wanted to know the reason, but Dumbledore hadn't really given any (unless "for the greater good" was good enough reason).

Sirius wasn't ready to agree until Remus had pointed out that Dumbledore had always held their best interests at heart and all his actions pointed to that fact. The artifact that Dumbledore had provided for his godson had changed his appearance well and had proven exceptionally handy in repelling all attention from him. And besides, if he were to go as an average eleven year-old instead of as the boy-who-lived, he was more likely to make true friends instead of those only interested in the legend of the boy-who-lived.

And so when Sirius had agreed– more for the last reason than for any other, Dumbledore had changed his godson's enrolment name and told him to keep the artifact that changed his appearance on his person at all times.

Despite all the measures they had taken to keep his godson safe, at the end of the year he had still been targeted- by a teacher possessed by Voldemort himself.

Voldemort was still alive...

He had hoped against hope, that Voldemort had truly died that day in Godric's Hollow. That their little broken family would live in peace for the rest of their lives. That his godson would have a safe and enjoyable childhood and education at Hogwarts– no longer the safest place in magical Britain if Voldemort was still able to get in.

The smoke rising in the distance indicated the train's arrival. He got up from his bench and dusted himself off, despite the absence of dust on his designer robes, especially charmed to keep off dust. Must have been a tick he had picked up.

The sight of the red steam engine spewing smoke and making that characteristic _choo-choo!_ sound brought up memories of happy times... of innocence and joy unhindered by dark times.

While he was incarcerated in Azkaban, his subconscious had stored almost every happy memory that hadn't already been sucked out by the dementors, into a vault in his mind (as "psychologist" Lupin had informed him), to protect them from being preyed upon by the dementors of Azkaban. This combined with the fact that he knew he was innocent, had prevented his descent into madness. Being an animagus and turning into a grim on will whenever a dementor got too close was a great help as well. Dementors apparently thought that the happy memories of a dog weren't worth their time when humans were around.

Despite these peculiar defense mechanisms he had possessed, he was unable to keep up hope of being freed... of getting out and seeing James and Lily reincarnated in his godchild again.

How he had loathed what he had done, going after Pettigrew while his friends lay there dead, their son crying. How he had hated himself for being selfish for just a moment and running off to get revenge instead of remaining to take care of his godchild.

So when they had thrown him into his cell in Azkaban without a trial, calling him Betrayer, Death Eater scum and a multitude of other profanities and names while beating him within an inch of his life... he had realized that it was Fate's way of telling him that he had failed. He had failed his friends when he approved the rat's decision to become Secret Keeper, and he had failed his godson when he saw fit to take revenge immediately.

And so he had endured taunts from the other prisoners (all of whom were actually guilty) and the guards coming to check on him (they only came by twice every week and only to check whether the prisoners were still alive, unless in cases of emergencies; Sirius had later learnt that house elves made the food and delivered it), and the occasional guard in a bad mood who also took out his frustration by beating him up.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed before they stopped beating him. The taunts had never stopped though. Years passed as his godson grew older, but Sirius had given up hope a long time ago.

But one day, as he had sat there wishing for death, he began feeling hope and happiness like he had never felt before during his time in Azkaban. He didn't understand what was causing it and tried looking through the bars of his cell. What he had seen would be etched into his memory forever.

A rescue party. For _him_. (Or for someone else equally innocent.)

He could never doubt that it was a rescue party. Never before had a phoenix patronus, an actual singing phoenix and an old man in ridiculously childish robes come to Azkaban, or he had no doubt he would have felt it. He remembered studying those robes in detail- midnight blue, with moons and stars imprinted on it.

He remembered how almost every prisoner had been looking out of their cell. Everyone longing for the feeling of hope. Even after the bird stopped singing, the feeling remained. They stopped in front of his cell.

The prisoners laughed and jeered at him, most of them well-known Inner Circle Death Eaters.

His cousin Bellatrix was there in the cell across from him, laughing in that crazy laugh of hers that unsettled the pair of aurors who had accompanied the old man and gone unnoticed until then. "Finally come to get him? _I_ could've told you dear old Sirius was innocent." She had laughed again while one of the guards unlocked Sirius' cell. "But who would've _believed_ me?" She sneered at Sirius. "The Dark Lord will return one day soon and when he does, I'll-" she stopped speaking and fell down on the ground as a stunner hit her from in between the bars of her cell.

Everyone had turned to look at Senior Auror Robards, who looked unfazed. "Right, does anyone else want to sleep when dementors are not around and you're all feeling better than you have in ages?" he called out to the rest of the prisoners.

Not one word was heard from them then onwards.

And so Dumbledore began his explanation of why he was being released now.

Sirius hadn't believed Dumbledore at first when he had informed him that Pettigrew was still alive and they had caught him and questioned him under Veritaserum. He also got to know that their trial would be held the next day.

But as he began to accept it, tears had freely fallen from his eyes and he had suddenly jumped and hugged the old man, startling him. He had proceeded to also hug the two aurors, who had looked very uncomfortable, still being unable to picture him as innocent.

They had taken him to the Ministry's holding cells for the night and kept him under watch. He got his trial the next morning and with the help of Veritaserum, claimed his freedom, busted Pettigrew's arse and kicked him in his soft spot, before they sent the _real_ traitor off to prison.

Best day ever.

And that was before he got to meet his godson on the next day.

Sirius' time in Azkaban had taught him a lot of things. One of those things was sorting out his priorities, and his first priority now would always be...

The shiny crimson train finally arrived at the station and students immediately started to disembark. Sirius knew his ward hated crowds and elected to wait back until it was relatively calmer. He only had to wait a few minutes before he identified a mop of messy blonde hair that was uniquely characteristic of his godson.

He had made some good friends over the year. Sirius and Moony had been able to communicate with him almost every night he was at Hogwarts and talk about inconsequential things, by using the two-way mirrors they had co-created for his birthday gift.

Sirius moved closer to the green-eyed blonde by carefully maneuvering around groups of chatting students and fussing parents. He reached there just as the blonde said his parting words to his friends- "-your promise. Don't tell anyone."

The trio of a bushy-haired brunette, a blonde pudgy boy and a redheaded boy all nodded resolutely, said their goodbyes and left to find their families.

"What's this I'm hearing about promises, Ha- _Chris_?" Sirius enquired of his godson.

Chris greeted his godfather with a hug. "Uh... it was nothing. Just told them not to spread the whole Quirrellmort story around."

His godfather frowned, but remained silent. He pulled out his wand from its holster and proceeded to shrink the trunk and cast a featherlight charm almost simultaneously. Chris pocketed his shrunk trunk.

They walked to the exit in companionable silence, the blonde nodding or waving goodbye to some or the other student every now and then.

As they walked, they came across a family of redheads that could only be the Weasleys. The only daughter was holding on to her mother's hand. Chris said goodbyes to them casually and got patted on his back by the twins. The girl turned to look at Sirius for a second and he could have sworn he saw a flash of crimson in her irises before she looked away. Sirius shook his head to clear it, before they continued to walk to the entrance to the muggle world.

Chris looked around as they neared the line of taxis. "Moony couldn't come?"

"No, but he'll be joining us for dinner tonight." Chris nodded in understanding and Sirius hailed a cab.

"13, Grimmauld Place." The cabbie nodded and they got into the taxi, and it set off for their destination. They sat in silence until–

"So... about this Daphne girl..." Sirius smirked.

Chris groaned. It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

"Harry, come up here," Sirius' voice called from the living room.

Grimmauld Place - the Black family home - that was now put under the Fidelius (which made it a real hassle to get pizza delivered), was clean and spotless. They had gotten rid of the house elf who hated his master and removed all traces of dark magic (Black magic) from the place. They had renovated the whole place, and it looked _good_. A woman's touch could be felt in the place, even though it wasn't that pronounced.

The Black Library that held one of the most extensive collection of books on the Dark Arts, was now categorized, with almost every book on the Dark Arts placed under heavy password-protected wards that only Sirius could get through.

The kitchen had been warded against magic and held a refrigerator and a microwave oven that worked. Harry had unanimously been voted Head Chef when he had volunteered for the position after tasting some of Sirius' concoctions.

The basement had also been "magic-proofed", and the torture chamber held within was converted to a game room with a cable TV occupying a large portion of it. A snooker table had been set up with balls haphazardly located on it. A very comfortable-looking sofa and a few couches stood opposite the TV. Sirius' voice was drowned out by the loud volume of the TV.

Chris Evans, now sporting messy _jet black_ hair (which just covered a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead), lay on the sofa watching TV. He held the remote loosely in his hand.

He had been tired after coming back home from visiting his Aunt Narcissa at St. Mungos. She had been very pleased to see him again, and he had stayed at her bedside for a long time, recounting his year at Hogwarts (even though he had left out the more "interesting" parts of the year) while having dinner with her. The healers had said she would make a full recovery from whatever curse had hit her and so she was taking it easy. When he had come back from the magical hospital, it was already eight-thirty in the evening and he had opted for watching some TV before going to bed.

"Harry," Remus' kind voice suddenly called from the door opening. "Harry, come on, we have something important to discuss upstairs."

Chris/Harry frowned, but turned off the TV, got up and stretched lazily. He yawned and walked towards the doorway where Remus stood. "What is it, Moony?"

"Come upstairs and you'll find out." Remus put an arm around Harry and gently dragged him upstairs.

Harry sighed and walked up to the living room with Remus, then stopped in surprise. Whatever he was expecting, it was _not_ to see Headmaster Dumbledore sitting in the armchair by the fireplace gently sipping tea from a teacup.

Now wide awake, Harry looked at Sirius with a raised eyebrow. He noticed the five empty bottles of butterbeer on the table in front of the couch. Remus went and sat down in the couch opposite the one occupied by Sirius, clasped both of his hands together and frowned at the table.

"Headmaster," he greeted with a curt nod and got one in return. He raised an eyebrow at the two other adults, and upon seeing their serious faces, asked nervously, "What-What's going on?"

Sirius sighed. "Come sit." He patted the space next to him on the couch. "We need to talk."

Harry did as he was told, and they all sat in silence until he could not take it anymore and blurted out, "It wasn't me! I didn't do it!"

"You didn't do what?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily.

"Whatever it is you're accusing me of doing." Harry smiled mischievously. "I bet you don't even have proof."

Sirius and Remus looked at each other and laughed, while Dumbledore smiled and seemed to de-age almost thirty years.

"Ah yes, we have you to thank for a truly wondrous year at Hogwarts, I'm sure." Dumbledore's face slowly turned back to its previous state. "But alas, that's not why I'm here though, dear boy."

Dumbledore sat back straight, and looked straight into Harry's eyes. His electric-blue eyes seemed to look through his every lie, as though X-raying his mind.

"I was invited here today," he looked towards Sirius for a moment then turned to look back into Harry's eyes, "by your godfather, to discuss the rather _spectacular_ end to your school year." He waved his wand and the teapot soared into the air to refill his cup. "And about what must be done now... to ensure it doesn't happen again." The teapot went back into the tray. "We wish to inform you of certain things and will consider your opinion in this."

While Dumbledore added sugar to his tea, Harry glanced at the two other adults and saw the fearful expressions on their faces.

He recalled that day in the infirmary when he was feigning sleep in order to listen in on the whispered, yet undoubtedly heated argument Sirius was having with the Headmaster. Remus was physically restraining his friend from physically lashing out on the Headmaster, who had simply stood there, calmly taking it all.

Harry had then immediately pretended to have just woken up, in order to stop Sirius from doing bodily harm to an old man. Sirius had been blinking back tears even as Harry had reassured him for the _n_ th time that he was fine and didn't need the healer to come and force another potion down his throat.

Madame Pomfrey had come nonetheless and forced another potion down his throat.

He remembered the Headmaster conjuring chairs for the three of them and then taking the one to the right of his bed. Dumbledore had then begun to explain that Voldemort hadn't truly died that night Harry's parents had sacrificed their lives for him, and was looking for a way to come back into a permanent body of his own.

Coming back to the present, as he sat there in the living room, he understood why they had invited Dumbledore tonight. They had probably been reaching a decision on what must be done and needed his input. He sat in silence for a while.

"Why does _my_ opinion matter so much right now?" Harry broke the silence after a long time, " _You've_ been making decisions for me and my family since the time I've been born anyway," he said to Dumbledore. "All your decisions have worked fine for my family so far, except for my parents..." He muttered under his breath, but everyone heard nonetheless.

"Harry!" Sirius said in warning.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and spoke, his voice hoarse, "It is my opinion that a person's fate is his own, that his destiny is what he makes of it and hence he should have a choice in it." Dumbledore took another sip of his tea then set down the cup on his knee.

"Is that why you laid an "elaborate" trap for _Voldemort_ that even an _ickle firstie_ could get through?" Harry asked impulsively.

Dumbledore didn't bother with a reply and asked instead, "Tell me Harry... why you thought it best to go after the sorcerer's stone alone?" Harry suddenly started to look uncomfortable.

"You could have taken your friend Neville, for I have heard from Pomona that he is prodigious at Herbology and would have been an immense help against the Devil's Snare," Dumbledore continued and sat up straight. "Why couldn't you take little Ronald? You know of his prowess at chess and strategy. He would've been able to take care of Minerva's trap for you. And Miss Granger would no doubt try her brilliant mind at that Potions puzzle and possibly pass through it without a hitch." Dumbledore turned to look at the fire and sighed.

"You _wanted_ me to go to the third floor corridor. You-You _manipulated_ me into going in there and taking care of Voldemort for you." Harry was blinking back tears and looking towards Sirius and Remus for help, but both of them were still looking solemn and fearful.

Instead of taking his side like Harry expected, Remus looked at him and asked, "Why _didn't_ you take your friends along with you, Harry?"

Harry gulped but didn't answer. He had a feeling all three of the adults knew perfectly well why he had gone alone.

Sirius had told Harry sometime before he had left for Hogwarts to watch out for people who befriended him for his money and fame, especially if they knew who he really was. So when Dumbledore had put forth the idea of changing his name and appearance to keep their enemies in the dark for a while longer, Sirius had readily agreed.

Even so, Harry had remained friendless for a long time in Hogwarts, choosing to observe people instead of befriending them outright.

One such observation led him to lashing out at Ron when he had insulted Hermione for the last time. Ron had come to realize because of Chris that it was wrong of him to insult her when all she had done was help him. He had then gone to search for her and apologize.

He was already close with Neville but you couldn't have called them friends. He had observed that Neville had confidence issues especially when faced with Snape, and so Chris had helped him by becoming his constant partner and walking him through each step in Potions.

After the Troll Incident, Hermione had come to understand why everyone hated her as Chris had gradually and subtly informed her of her tendency to show off her knowledge. Since then, she had strove to tone down her know-it-all behaviour.

All three had gotten close to him and made him the unofficial leader of their little group.

So in the end, anyone who didn't like (or outright hated) the two boys and the bushy-haired girl had gradually changed their opinion of the three. Ron was no longer jealous of everything anyone did better than him, especially after his green-eyed friend explained it to him that some people are better at some things than others. Neville had gotten slightly more confident and no longer needed his Remembrall. Hermione was gradually learning that not all books should be taken as gospel and that experiences are just as important.

As for Chris (or Harry)... he had grown accustomed to having three close companions and felt that they didn't befriend him for his money or fame, but for who he was (since he hadn't informed them of his true identity yet).

Chris had managed to also make friends from other houses- people he could stomach having close to himself, whether or not they would be useful to him. He had felt that most of the Professors were secretly pleased with his outgoing nature and his ability to intermingle with students of other houses without any qualms or second thoughts, even though he mostly stayed away from Slytherin.

He did manage to steer clear of Malfoy and his goons for most of the year, despite Malfoy's constant poor attempts at belittling the Fantastic Four- as Harry and his trio of friends were being called, for some reason.

He had also managed to continue the legacy set by his father and felt he was justified in only pranking those students who deserved it. Especially those Slytherins who had called Hermione a _mudblood_. The best part was that there was never any proof of his wrongdoing, but his smirks whenever he denied involvement usually gave it away to those who had been pranked. That _really_ felt good.

Since the beginning of the first term, he had pretended to be only slightly above average in academics. The teachers had all come to realize he was hiding his true potential, but most did understand the reason behind it (since they had all figured out his true identity in the first week of classes itself).

The reason had been simple- his family was trying to keep his identity a secret, and he couldn't afford to attract attention to himself.

So he had endeavoured to keep his prodigal magical talent secret. He also felt that it should be kept secret for as long as possible in order to preserve his budding friendship with the trio. Ron would have become jealous instantly, Neville would have lost whatever confidence he had gained, and Hermione would have had to contend with being second-best, which was in her opinion the worst thing that could happen to her.

But as the days passed, he realized the truth– he could be acing every class with the amount of knowledge he had. He had learnt that he would be the best in their year if he didn't have to hide. He had already started to read second-year material in the library. He had come to have great pride in his abilities and didn't realize when he had let it get to his head.

Soon came the days when he had to work really hard not to lash out at Ron and Neville for getting the easiest of things wrong, or pretend very hard to not be bothered by the jealous looks Hermione sent him for getting his work done before her. But he had persevered and kept his secret.

Neville and Ron had mostly been disinterested in the whole "investigation" Harry and Hermione had undertaken into the third floor corridor and its contents. He and Hermione had come to the conclusion that either Snape or Quirrell would be going after the philosopher's stone while Dumbledore was away.

Then Harry had sent Hermione (ignoring her pleas to let her come with him) to get Professors McGonagall and Flitwick while he made his way to the third floor corridor to stop the thief from getting away. He had come to suspect, after following the trail of clues, that the thief was probably working for Voldemort and that if he escaped with the stone, Voldemort would have the means to become immortal.

So, seeing as he was the best in his year and also the one who had stopped Voldemort once already, he had not thought twice about heading immediately into sure danger as he felt he could take on whatever came. He had gone through the ridiculously easy-to-get-through "traps", feeling good about himself and his chances as he passed them all easily and made his way into the last room, in the centre of which the Mirror of the Erised was located.

He had found Quirrell, had a chat and then duelled with him- only to lose spectacularly. It was a slap to his face how easily he had been subdued. Quirrell had continued looking for the stone, and then Voldemort had been revealed.

Harry had never felt as completely powerless as in that moment, when he heard Voldemort order Quirrell to "use the boy". He had simply watched as Quirell had attempted to manhandle him and push him towards the mirror, but failed to even touch him without burning. Pushing his advantage, Harry had immediately put both his hands on Quirrell's face and simply looked away as he burned his possessed Defense teacher to death.

He didn't really understand what had happened after that. He had seen what could only be described as an incorporeal spirit with Voldemort's face rise out of Quirrell's ashes. It had moved towards him and he had fallen unconscious.

When he had first woken up after that, he had first been forced to down a few potions and put back to sleep.

He had done a lot of thinking after waking up the night after Sirius and Remus had come to visit him and had come to the conclusion that it was wrong of him to think that he could take on an adult wizard on his own without help– to think that he would have been able to do something and save the day just because he considered himself the best in his year. He might have stopped Voldemort once, but it had been more due to his mother's sacrifice than anything else (as Dumbledore had informed him during their talk.)

So when his friends had come to meet him in the infirmary, he had no longer thought that he was better than them just because he was good at magic. Each of them was different. Each of them had different characteristics. And even after all he had thought about them, they had always been there for him when he had needed them.

Now, as he saw Dumbledore's eyes peering at him from above his glasses, Harry sighed and said sincerely, "I've learnt my lesson, old man."

Dumbledore nodded and the other two adults sighed in relief. "I do not have enough time to relate the complete history, so I will keep this short... Lord Voldemort was once a student at Hogwarts." All three other occupants of the room looked up at him now.

"I was the Transfiguration Professor at the time. He went by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle then. He was just like you– an orphan and a prodigious student with charm and charisma. He too felt that he was better than everyone else and strove to become more powerful than he already was." Dumbledore looked every bit his age as he related the tale. "He didn't stop to think about the consequences of his actions until it was too late. By using certain dark rituals, he had started to gain immense power. But he had lost his innocence in the process... and his soul was depleting bit by bit until only the husk remained. He had never considered anyone as his friend, even though the opposite had held true until he revealed his true level of power– which left them yearning for it. He shared his power with his "followers", but he only considered them as stepping stones to greatness. In the end, he did achieve greatness... even though it was at the cost of his own soul.

"The reason I'm telling you this is simple– I feel somewhat responsible for Tom's descent into darkness... and I do not wish to see someone so very similar to him go down the same path."

All three adults now stared at Harry and remained silent for a long time.

"Professor... why did you get the feeling that I would turn out like him?" Dumbledore started to speak, but Harry held up his hand. "I'm may be an orphan... but I _do_ have a family." Sirius and Remus suddenly looked to be bursting with pride. "And I do not think less of my friends just because I am better at studies. I _cherish_ my friendship with Hermione, Neville and Ron. I helped them in their time of need and they were there when I needed them." Harry shook his head and smiled. "You think I want to lose my soul simply to become more _powerful_ than that madman? You really must be senile then, old man."

Dumbledore said nothing for a moment. But after a moment he smiled and all the signs of worry disappeared from his face and he looked truly happy.

"Besides," Harry continued, "I didn't really go after Voldemort because I felt that I could take him on... okay wait, that _was_ part of the reason, but the real reason was that I didn't want him to come back to life. I didn't want him to hurt anymore of my family again."

Dumbledore was still smiling. He placed the now empty cup on the table and got up from the chair. Then he started pacing, as though deciding on whether or not something should be said at this time.

Harry raised an eyebrow at his behaviour and asked Dumbledore what was bothering him. Dumbledore didn't reply and continued pacing. He suddenly stopped and looked even more worried than he had just a few minutes ago.

"I was afraid of the time I would be required to tell you this... I'm still not sure if I should... I had hoped it would resolve itself and that's why I did not interfere in your pursuit of the thief... but I've been told..." Dumbledore sighed. "You're still much too young, Harry and I would not have wished this burden upon you... but you've shown extraordinary maturity for someone your age. And I–I believe you should be told, just so you can prepare yourself better."

He still looked undecided. Sirius and Remus looked pale and seemed to be frightened. They must have known what was coming.

"It's okay Dumbledore; besides everything you've done for "the greater good"... you've done a lot for me and my family." Harry looked to be slightly bothered by all the tension in the room, but continued, "Even after you manipulated me into going after Voldemort, I still consider you somewhat of an honorary grandfather, more or less. You can tell me. I _can_ handle it, and I certainly won't hold it against you."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and attempted to wipe his tears off with his fingers. "I see... I'm truly honoured that you think of me as a grandfather. And I-I'm sorry about what I'm about to say. I've told this to your godfather and uncle just this evening and they think it best if it were to be kept secret for a while longer. But I–"

Sirius spoke up for the first time since Harry had sat down and his voice was shaky, "We didn't want you to know, pup. We–We were thinking about telling you when you were older, but Dumbledore… he thinks you should be told immediately, since we're not sure when Voldemort will be back."

Harry, for the first time since he had thought he was going to die by Voldemort's hand that night in front of the Mirror of the Erised began to feel fear. He wanted to say something, but no voice came out. After a while, he simply said, in a hoarse voice that was very unlike his usual one, "You–You're sounding as though he's going to announce my death sentence..."

Sirius had started crying and Remus had tears in his eyes. No one said anything for a very long time, until Sirius wiped his eyes and motioned for Dumbledore to start speaking.

Dumbledore nodded morosely and began speaking, "There was a prophecy made just before you were born..."

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay folks, one last chapter is next and then we're all done for the first–year.

Now, on to some Review responses...  
 **monbade:** Is it clear in this chapter why Sirius said 13, instead of 12? *hint– Fidelius*

 **Pokemark17:** No one who hasn't visited the US would use that phrase. Especially not in the early–'90s.

 **AmazinglyAwesome:** No bashing of characters. At least not yet. ;)

 **maybe–its–andrew:** Don't worry, I'm not pulling out until I'm finished (pun intended).

 **daithi4377:** Wow, man. You discovered a vital plot point with so less info. You rock man!

 **Le Diablo Blanc2:** No Durmstrang, sorry.

 **Vi38:** Whoever you are, I love you. You have reviewed on almost every chapter. You're awesome! I do hope you continue to review and wish that you would say something more. Thanks a lot.


	6. Beginning

**Chapter 5:** Beginning

 _My name is_ Harry Potter _._

 _For as long as I can remember, I lived in a cupboard under the stairs in my Aunt and Uncle's house; I was an orphan who was sent to live with his abusive relatives._

 _They loved their son, my cousin, very much... that much even I could tell. But never me. They would never spare any love for a_ freak _._

* * *

Draco Malfoy lay on his magnificent golden bed with dried tear tracks on his face. He was still sobbing silently as he remembered the last conversation he had with his mother. Her words and the hatred in her voice rang in his ears again and again.

 _I am ashamed to be called your mother._

He _knew_ he had made the right choice when she had asked him whether he would come with her to live with the Blacks.

 _Malfoys bow to no one. We are the purest of the purebloods. We are the kings of the people who should be happy we graced them with our presence._

The Blacks had forced a divorce, citing such reasons as "weak-minded, abusive, albino glory-hounds with delusions of grandeur". It had made headlines in the Prophet; Lucius hadn't been able to keep it out the papers.

Divorce was heavily frowned upon in pureblood circles, since it implied incompatibility of the couple, and was rarely employed by families.

Now, the Malfoy family had lost some of their fortune (Narcissa's dowry plus interest had to be returned to the Blacks), and most of their respect.

Draco wiped his face. Kings did not weep. Kings showed people their place.

He would show them. He would show them all that he was a true Malfoy. A true pureblood who would bring back his family honour, one day.

* * *

 _I was seven years old when my life changed forever._

 _My recently liberated_ godfather _came to visit me. He explained everything- about my parents, about where he had been during all this time._

 _All the weird unexplained things that always got me beaten up and called a_ freak _were explained._

 _Apparently, I am a wizard._

 _Yes,_ really _. I'm a wizard._

 _I can do magic and stuff._

 _I was one year old when the Dark Lord Voldemort came to my house to kill me. He killed my parents with a killing curse each. And then he turned towards me and cast it again._

 _He failed. Spectacularly. So much so that he was left without a body and escaped to who-knows-where as a wraith._

 _Now, I am the only known person to have survived the killing curse. Naturally, I'm famous._ Extremely _so. One-year-old baby taking out the darkest Dark Lord in history? Of course I would be._

 _Anyway, my godfather, Sirius Black... he took me to a place I now call_ home _. He showed me to people who cared about me._

 _And suddenly... life started to look up._

* * *

A pale, long blonde haired man walked into a secluded alleyway, where a shady looking man stood waiting.

"Ah... Mr Malfoy, I was wondering if you were going to show up today."

Lucius Malfoy glared at the other man. "I gave you one job. _One job._ And you mess it up." He took a deep breath. "She's still alive, you know."

"I was sure she would have died when the curse hit her, sir. But don't you worry for a bit. I will go and take her out right now in St. Mungos." The man said with a confident smirk. "And then as you said, I can join the Dark Lord's army."

Lucius simply gave him a pitying look. "My wife is already out of St. Mungos, Mr Anderson. The Blacks are on high alert."

Anderson's eyes widened in fright. "Just give me one more chance, my lord." His hand inched towards his wand.

Lucius brought out his wand faster than the other man possibly could. "One chance is all the Dark Lord will ever give you. _Avada Kedavra."_ A green light flashed from his wand towards the other man. Lucius didn't wait after he heard the body fall, and started walking away.

His thoughts took on a darker turn as he thought about everything he would do to his wife when he got his hands on her.

He was aware that Narcissa went regularly to visit Black after he was released from Azkaban. He did not care in the least where she spent her time. But he was certain that Black was also named Potter's godfather. So, it was only logical that she had met Potter and talked to him. But she would not tell him anything about the child. Ever since the first time he had asked about the child, she had grown increasingly distant and one day when he had had enough, he used the Cruciatus on her. Despite everything, she had not revealed anything at all to him.

When he read in the papers that Harry Potter would be coming to Hogwarts, he had decided to send the Dark Lord's diary to Hogwarts so that the Chamber of Secrets could be opened again and the monster could take care of Potter for him. When his Master returned, he would be his top lieutenant again.

In order to avoid suspicion, he had decided not to send the book with his son. So, it had to go with someone else. On a stroke of genius, or as he thought, he had put the book into the cauldron of a Weasley. He was sure one of Arthur Weasley's spawn would take it with them to cause the chamber to release the monster.

But, as he came to know, not only was the Chamber not reopened, Harry Potter also was not going to go to Hogwarts at all.

He had decided to find out the book's whereabouts lest his Master be displeased upon his return. However, it seemed the whole world went against him when Black forced a divorce at the end of Draco's school year, citing asinine reasons that took away a great deal of his influence and power.

It did not matter in the end. He could bribe and threaten anyone to do _what_ he wanted, _when_ he wanted. All such things were possible when you have the _Minister_ in your pocket.

For now, though... he needed to find a wife. There was that contract he was hoping Draco could take on, but now...

Lucius Malfoy had a sinister smirk on his face before he apparated out.

* * *

 _When I was eleven, I was sent to Hogwarts- a magical school for wizards and witches that teaches them magic. I was under a false name and a heavy glamour to conceal my true identity. I kept my grades just above average. I refused to join the Quidditch team. It would not do to draw attention to myself. I made some good friends and many acquaintances. No one recognized me, besides maybe some of the teachers, and they kept my secret to themselves._

 _There was this mirror- The Mirror of the Erised... it showed me what_ could _be or maybe what my innermost desires were. I would see my parents, Sirius and Remus surrounding me, clapping me on the back or hugging me from behind in case of my mother. I would also see Dora, Andy, Uncle Ted and Aunt Cissa smiling at me. I would see my grandparents there too._

 _But then Dumbledore happened. He took away the mirror so I "_ would do well not to dwell on dreams and forget to live _"._

* * *

Albus Dumbledore took another sip from his glass of Ogden's finest. He would never drink alcohol in front of anyone, but he was never averse to it in private. Especially in moments of deep, troubling thoughts.

His mind was pondering the promise one Harry Potter had made right in front of him, merely two days after being informed of his destiny. He still remembered the expression of bravery and persistent determination on the child's face. An expression that his father was quite famous for.

He had truly come to love the child as his own grandson. And he would always care for him, whatever he thought of an old man such as himself.

 _Perhaps helping him more directly in his endeavour was not really amiss._

The idea of young Harry taking on Lord Voldemort directly was not entirely implausible, if the prophecy held true and the boy held on to his promise. And he knew that the prophecy was true. It had been validated after all.

* * *

 _At the end of my year at Hogwarts, I had a brief, yet terrifying meeting with the dark lord who killed my parents. It seems he possessed a Professor and they'd both been able to recognize me from the start. He tried to kill me the whole year, but for some or the other reason, couldn't. So, he tried again... and failed once more. I somehow managed to survive that encounter._

 _I had done some growing up over the year and I wanted to see the Mirror of the Erised again, because I was sure it would show something different this time. I went to the classroom where it was kept last time. I wasn't really surprised when I didn't see it there._

 _But I_ was _surprised when I saw Daphne Greengrass there instead. She seemed to be looking for the same thing as well. I revealed myself and we talked as she cried. I didn't ask her about what she saw in the mirror. It seemed too personal a question._

 _But then she asked me about the Quirrelmort story. And I told her. I hadn't even told my best friends, much less anyone else, but I told her the story, and left nothing out. I don't know why she seemed so trustworthy, despite being a Slytherin. Maybe I'm just a sucker for crying girls, who knows._

 _She's really smart though. I could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure out what I was leaving out. And she found me out. A Slytherin found me out. She promised not to tell anyone anything I'd told her. I just decided to trust her._

 _She asked me one question that left me stumped and more than a little certain she wasn't like other people._

 _"If you really wanted to hide yourself, why would you name yourself after both your parents?"_

 _Like I said, she's really smart._

* * *

"It was a brilliant idea to hide Harry Potter's true identity. And it was equally brilliant of you to find him out, Queenie." An old man gave his granddaughter one of his rare smiles. "You have kept this to yourself, haven't you?"

His blonde-haired granddaughter smiled back and nodded.

"Go on then, get to bed. We'll talk more about this later." The girl muttered a quick "good-night" and left the study.

"Twinky," he called. A house-elf instantly appeared inside the study with a "pop". "Send for Ariana." The elf nodded and left to get the woman.

Lord Darius Greengrass sighed heavily, looking every bit his age. A few minutes and a knock later, a beautiful woman with a remarkable resemblance to the old man's granddaughter entered the study. "You sent for me?" Her voice was emotionless, her face barely showing her trepidation.

"Come in, take a seat." The woman took a seat in front of the desk and stared at it. The old lord took a swig from his glass of firewhiskey. "Lucius Malfoy has sent me a letter." He took a deep breath and continued. "Now that he is divorced, he seeks to marry again. He is going to activate the contract between our houses."

Ariana Greengrass looked up at him with the grudging acceptance of a soldier who has been told he is about to die. She did not say anything; she didn't have to. It looked like she had been expecting this. Lord Darius gave a mental nod of acknowledgement to the fortitude of his daughter. To have gone through such an ordeal and still come out on top... Madeline had obviously raised her right.

However, the bad news was yet to be said.

"Unfortunately," the old Lord of the Manor was looking to be on the verge of crying. He cleared his throat and continued in a shaky voice, "It is not _you_ he wishes to marry."

If Ariana looked even the slightest bit shocked earlier, now she looked positively horrified.

"He wants Astoria."

A widening of icy blue eyes along with a muffled gasp from behind the door went unnoticed as Ariana started crying.

* * *

 _After I got back home, it was explained to me in greater detail what was going on. Why the Dark Lord was so hell-bent on finishing me. Why he would never leave me alone until he killed me._

 _I am apparently the only person in the world who can "_ vanquish" _the old snakeface._

 _So has been deemed by prophecy._

* * *

At the Burrow, things were tense.

"You did _not_ just do that," Fred Weasley's tone was dangerous.

"I just _did,_ " Bill Weasley was _smirking._

There was a pin-drop silence for a while. No one said anything. The sound of wind ruffling the branches of a tree was heard clearly by all.

"Well... I believe it is time for some revenge," George Weasley got up from his seat. So did the rest of his brothers who were dripping with water. Even Ron, the usual guinea pig for the twins' experiments was siding with them in this battle.

Bill looked at their determined expressions and gulped. Despite being a certified cursebreaker, he still did not like his chances.

Just as his brothers jumped on him while yelling out a wide range of battle cries, their mother walked into the kitchen with their sister in tow. She took one look at them and bellowed, "What's going on here?"

All the Weasley boys (except Charlie, who was still working at the dragon preserve) turned to look at their mother in terror and immediately jumped back into their respective seats.

The twins started whistling, Bill looked everywhere but at his mother, Percy looked sheepish and Ron looked hungry and confused.

"Why are you all wet?" Ginny pointed out, with an innocent smirk that no one missed.

Their mother sighed, took out her wand and waved it and they were all dried instantly. "Do you boys _have_ to do this every morning?"

"No, mum," they all simultaneously intoned, even Ginny. They all looked at each other and began laughing. Molly Weasley managed a smile as well and walked over to serve them breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen was empty and Ginny took a look at the Daily Profit, as she had become accustomed to read it every day to report any interesting stories to Tom.

 _Wait, Daily_ Profit _?_

Ginny took a look at the name again.

x-x

 **THE DAILY PROFIT**

Trustworthy, verifiable and profitable news for every Englishwizard everyday!

x-x

 _This is new..._

She began to read the newspaper, and the first page had a photo of a large office building with a larger sign proclaiming "THE DAILY PROFIT". The first page went on to subtly inform the reader about the tendency of news from _other_ papers to be unverifiable and unbelievable, influenced and shaped by politics and bribery. And hence the need for a trustworthy newspaper that meets the needs of information for every wizard and witch of every age group, unhindered by personal views and political opinions.

"People are going to start reading _this_ paper now instead of the Prophet," Bill Weasley said as he came to stand beside his sister, who was frowning.

"Why?"

"Have you taken a look at the second page? There's something that should interest you immensely." He smirked at her, patted her head and left.

Ginny huffed, and turned the page. Her eyes widened comically.

x-x

FIRST EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH **THE BOY-WHO-LIVED**

 _That's right, dear readers. We, the reporters for the Daily Profit have met with_ the _Harry Potter_ _, and found out things about him that we will be including in this paper as a_ _bonus to the first people who have decided to buy our newspapers._ _Anyone who wishes to verify if this is indeed the truth can visit our office and receive all necessary proof. On to the interview then..._

Interviewer: _We, at the Daily Profit are extremely pleased with your decision to let us interview you, Mr Potter.  
_ Harry Potter: _The pleasure is all mine._

Int: _Thank you. Shall we begin then, Mr Potter?  
_ HP: _Of course, and please call me Harry._

Int: _Definitely, Harry. Now, our first question- where were you all this time, and why have you decided to give an interview now only?  
_ HP: _Where I was... well, I lived with my Muggle Aunt and Uncle until I was seven years old, and then my godfather came to check up on me and decided to take me home. As for why I've decided to give an interview now... my godfather insisted on it._

Int: _If I may ask, who is your godfather, Mr Potter?  
_ HP: _Sirius Black._  
Int: _...  
_ HP: _..._

Int: _Sirius Black? The same Sirius Black who only until a few years ago was considered your parents' betrayer to the Dark Lord?  
_ HP: _Mmhmm... the one and only._

Int: _Alright. But, why has he let you do the interview? You_ are _an eleven-year-old after all.  
_ HP: _Let's just say he has full confidence in my ability to talk my way out of any situation. *Mr. Potter winks at the interviewer*_

Int: _Okay... So, you said that you lived with your Aunt and Uncle who were Muggles. Which means that you lived in the Muggle world?  
_ HP: _That's correct._

Int: _So, you have_ not _gone on fantastical adventures to tame dragons and battle nundus since you were four?  
_ HP: _...  
_ Int: _...?  
_ HP: _Uhh... no? Anyone who is stupid enough to believe that stuff is ready for the Wizengamot._  
 _*Interviewer bursts out laughing*_  
 _*Harry Potter sighs*_

HP: _Look, I understand I am some sort of icon for the magical world. A... symbol that signifies the defeat of Vol-  
_ Int: _You should not take his name so lightly, Mr Potter, he was a terrible wizard who did terrible... unspeakable things.  
_ HP: _He took my parents from me; I don't see the problem in me taking his name. If the whole magical world is as dense and fear-ridden as you... to be afraid to this day of a man who got beat by a one-year-old baby, I don't see our world moving forward at all._

Int: _... I'm sorry Mr Potter.  
_ HP: _It's alright; I understand, everyone's still afraid. So... as I was saying, the people of magical Britain have considered me as an icon. But, to actually turn me into some sort of infallible god-like figure is... it's a deplorable act that_ seriously _undermines the sacrifices made by the true heroes of the war._

Int: _Does that imply that_ you _are not a hero of the war? Are you not the boy-who-lived?  
_ HP: _All those people claiming I was the downfall of the Dark Lord are correct. I_ did _survive his killing curse and it_ did _rebound on him. However, were any of them present there? Does anyone know what actually happened that day at Godric's Hollow? Since I was just a year old then, and no one else was around, I'm going to assume the answer is... no? Then how can anyone say that it was_ me _who defeated him somehow? It makes no sense that a baby barely an year old would be capable of taking on a powerful Dark Lord all by himself, much less that said baby would defeat the dark lord._

Int: _That is understandably true.  
_ HP: _Of course it is. So, while many researchers have theories on what must have occurred, the only one that I deem worth its knuts is Professor Dumbledore's._

Int: _You have spoken with Dumbledore?  
_ HP: _Of course, the old man may be growing senile, but no one can doubt his duty to the country and his love for the job he does as Hogwarts Headmaster. Also, he's an honorary grandfather of mine and an excellent conversationalist, and we always argue on whether muggle chocolate is better than magical candy and whenever we begin experimenting, he always ends up eating more of the candy than me and-_

Int: _Wait just a moment, Harry... Albus Dumbledore is your grandfather?  
_ HP: _Honorary, yes. So, anyway... old man Dumbles theorizes that it is most likely that my mother invoked ancient magics while trying to_ protect _me from Vol- and that's why his killing curse rebounded back on him._

Int: _So, according to Dumbledore, your mother is the one who should be given credit for the downfall of the Dark Lord?  
_ HP: _Absolutely. And you have to admit, that theory makes much more sense. I know now that I owe everything to my parents, who gave up their own lives in order to protect mine, and in my opinion,_ they _should be hailed as the heroes they are, instead of_ me _, a child who got lucky and survived a killing curse._

Int: _That is... an extremely heartening thought. One last question then, Harry- Did you not go to Hogwarts this year?  
_ HP: _For security reasons, I have been asked not to answer that specific question. So anyway, I have to go now._

 _From the conversation we've had with Mr Potter, we got the feeling of a confident, self-assured young man who truly believed in what he spoke about.  
That's it for the interview. We hope to have more of such enlightening conversations with Mr Potter and wish him the very best in his future endeavours._

x-x

Ginny Weasley turned the page and it detailed other news about Harry Potter, Sirius Black and the heroes of the war.

The redheaded girl had a sinister smile on her face that went unnoticed by everyone. It looked like it was time for some planning.

* * *

 _What can an eleven year old kid do against a man with tremendous magical ability, power and experience anyway? He freaking possessed a teacher right under Dumbledore's nose, for Merlin's sake._

 _I really didn't think I was powerful enough to face him, much less battle him. Not yet, in any case._

 _The least I can do is balance the scales as much as possible and just... hope for the best?_

 _So... here I am now, with my godfather, on a trip to meet a man in the middle of the Amazon forest. Why?_

 _To tip the scales, of course._

* * *

A pink-haired girl walked out of the Floo at Grimmauld Place after her mother. She looked at the brown-haired man sitting in an armchair close to the fire and blushed furiously. She tried to straighten her short hair out, despite having the innate ability to change her appearance at will.

Her mother had immediately moved towards the other occupant of the room, a woman who looked to be her sister simply from appearance itself.

The pink-haired girl whom everyone now called Dora on Harry Potter's insistence, only noticed her Aunt Cissa when her mother had moved towards her. It looked like she had been crying before Dora had gotten there.

Dora's mother was whispering reassurances to her sister and she asked the question that was on her mind, "What's going on Remus? Why's she crying?"

The brown-haired man named Remus looked at her and she battled her growing blush admirably. "Harry's gone... with Sirius."

"Where to?" She did not like where this was going.

"To find a way to win."

* * *

 _I'm currently staring into the bonfire we have lit to keep us warm. I always had a fascination with fire. Whenever I saw it, I would be reminded of the promise my godfather made me._

 _My mind plays back that scene that always brings a happy smile to my face._

* * *

It was another day in our new lives. Back then I was still a seven year old love-deprived kid who would do anything to be accepted and loved. My godfather had just brought together a pile of clothes that used to belong to my fat whale of a cousin. I had no need for them anymore. The first thing we had done after getting a home was to buy me new clothes that fit me.

Sirius had already started to pour a can of oil on the pile. Remus was waiting behind us. He handed me a matchbox. Sirius threw away the can and looked at me with an intensity in his eyes that I had only ever seen once, when he had come to take me away from the Dursleys. "Take a match and light it up, kid." I glanced at the two of them and gulped at their serious expressions. I was after all, still a kid. A kid who was still afraid to never be loved.

I did as I was told. All good kids do, don't they? The fire spread up the pile quickly. Sirius and Remus looked at the fire with a steely glint in their eyes. We watched in silence as the fire burned. Then Sirius said something that took a permanent place in Harry's mind as one of his "Patronus-worthy memories"–

 _"I make you a promise, Harry. I once forgot my duty to you in exchange for revenge."_

 _"I don't consider this my duty anymore, but an honour your parents gave to someone they trusted."_

 _"I promise you Harry, from now on, I'll keep you safe, I'll love you like you were my own and you'll never want for anything."_

There was a fierce determination in his eyes, one that made me believe him immediately.

* * *

 _He has always kept his promise, and I have always felt loved, wanted and needed._

 _Now... it was time for me to keep the promise I would have made to my parents if I'd seen them again in the Mirror of the Erised._

 _The promise_ – _to protect my family with my life._

 _And to defeat Voldemort once and for all._

* * *

 **A/N:** Happy New Year! Please consider Reviewing.


	7. Day One

**Chapter 6:** Day One

At an unknown location in Scotland, a ginormous castle towered magnificently in the stormy evening. The windows of the magical school it served as glimmered as light from candles and torches shone through them. Storm clouds had gathered, but it wasn't raining; the storm looked as though it lay in wait for something. The blackish lake nearby showed absolutely no interruptions on its surface but gentle waves were produced every now and then when an enthusiastic giant squid would push one of its tentacles out from the deep.

An old wizened poet would possibly describe the scene as an eager sentient castle waiting in anticipation of its students. He would also be immediately kicked out of the pub he was at for being too drunk, but... whatever.

Four students just got out of one of the many horseless carriages and started walking towards the well-lit, cavernous entrance hall.

One of them, a tall redheaded boy, strolled lazily up the stone steps, alongside a bushy-haired brunette who looked around as though searching for someone. They were a little distance away from the other two, who were walking close to each other and conversing in low tones.

A large, red, water-filled balloon came out of nowhere and exploded on the boy's head, drenching him in water. The girl immediately whipped her wand out and fired a spell at the source –Peeves the Poltergeist –which caused him to drop all his balloons and run away screaming in terror. She looked at the boy, sighed at his drenched and sputtering appearance and said, "Here, let me take care of that for you, Ron." She waved her wand in a certain way and murmured a spell that caused Ron's head and clothes to dry off instantly.

"Thanks a lot, Hermione," Ron muttered graciously and the brunette nodded in acceptance and gave a small smile, but her blush went unnoticed by the redhead. He then yelled out, "That Peeves should be sacked. They should perform an exorcism on him or something."

"Oh, do keep your voice down, Mr Weasley and continue into the Great Hall," directed Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, who was walking towards the entrance hall, and Ron gulped. She continued towards the gates, presumably to welcome the new students.

The foursome eventually reached the Great Hall and the two other students, a pudgy-faced boy and a blonde-haired girl, said goodbyes to each other and went and sat at their respective tables –the girl to Hufflepuff and the boy to Gryffindor, along with Ron and Hermione.

As Ron started complaining to his other year-mates about the first-years being late, Hermione immediately struck a conversation with the pudgy-faced boy. "Oh, I'm so happy for the two of you, Neville. Hannah is a very nice girl. Have you asked her to the Yule Ball yet?" she asked in an excited tone.

The boy blushed and scratched the back of his neck with his hand. "She said yes when I asked her on the train." The brunette let out a squeal and gave him a quick hug. They simultaneously turned to look at the Hufflepuff girl that was the subject of their conversation and found her blushing as furiously as the red hair on her friend, who seemed to be firing off questions to Hannah in rapid succession. When the two girls turned to look at Neville, Hermione gave Hannah a thumbs-up, which, if possible, made her blush even more.

Neville turned away, his face red as well and immediately changed the topic, "So, anyone ask you yet?"

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "Not yet, but I'm hoping…" She turned to look at Ron and sighed as she looked at him talking to their other housemates and loudly moaning about Hagrid taking his time. Neville smiled at her and put a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. She smiled back at him and turned to look at the Hufflepuff table again, where a very handsome-looking person was beaming at the multiple people who were congratulating him for something he said.

"You reckon Cedric's going to put his name in?" Neville asked her. "He's got excellent duelling skills, and is immensely popular. I'd say he has a very good chance of not only getting selected for Hogwarts, but also to win the Tournament."

"Hmm… I guess you're right. I did hear that he was the best in his year at Transfiguration," Hermione said. Just as she finished talking, Professor McGonagall entered with the first-years in tow and silence fell over the Hall. She placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

A thousand years or more ago,  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:  
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fin.  
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream;  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began.  
Now each of these four founders  
Formed their own house, for each  
Did value different virtues  
In the ones they had to teach.  
By Gryffindor, the bravest were  
Prized far beyond the rest;  
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  
Would always be the best;  
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  
Most worthy of admission;  
And power-hungry Slytherin  
Loved those of great ambition.  
While still alive they did divide  
Their favourites from the throng,  
Yet how to pick the worthy ones  
When they were dead and gone?  
Twas Gryffindor who found the way,  
He whipped me off his head  
The founders put some brains in me  
So I could choose instead!  
Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have a look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished. Professor McGonagall unrolled a large scroll of parchment and started calling out names, after instructing the first years to sit on the stool when their name was called.

Slowly (too slowly for Ron's grumbling stomach), the time came when the last student, "Whitby, Kevin", was sorted and the Headmaster got to his feet and smiled at the students, his arms open in welcome. "I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

There were exaggerated sounds of relief as the empty dishes in front of the students started to fill magically before their eyes.

As everyone began to chow down on the food, Hermione ate at a moderate pace while looking at the other tables.

Her eyes shifted to the Slytherin table and she saw Malfoy (or as she liked to call him, "foul-mouthed cockroach") looking disgusted, though she couldn't say for certain if it was because of his superiority complex (he was _actually_ claiming things like "kings shouldn't eat with the peasants" out loud) or because of the pug-faced girl whose hero worship of the cockroach led her to look as though she were practically melded into his arm.

Hermione took a few more bites and saw the blonde girl from her Ancient Runes class sitting on the same table. Her name was Daphne Greengrass, though everyone called her "Ice Princess" for her extremely cold demeanour. Undoubtedly one of the most beautiful girls in the school, she never deemed anyone worthy of her attention, though she was cordial enough to Hermione when they had to work together.

There was a scandal circulating in the papers regarding the Malfoys and the Greengrasses and no one knew what to say about it. Hermione shook her head and decided she did not need to open that can of worms in her head again and looked at the Ravenclaw table next.

Hermione sighed inwardly when she looked at the Ravenclaw table and Cho Chang. The Asian witch had it all –beauty, knowledge and popularity. Boys literally threw themselves after her, while Hermione still waited for her crush to get a hint.

Hermione chose a small piece of the chocolate gateau when dessert was served. After finishing up, she turned to Neville and made small talk with him till the Headmaster stood up again.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."

He talked about _The List of Objects Forbidden inside the Castle,_ prepared by Mr Filch, the caretaker; about the Forbidden forest being forbidden; and the village of Hogsmeade being forbidden to all below third year. Basically, just pointing out everything that was forbidden.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. "It is also my painful duty to inform you that there will be no Inter-House Quidditch Cup this year, due to the event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year… an event that I'm sure everyone has been looking forward to very much–"

Immediately most students stood and applauded. Many cheered and whooped loudly.

But it was short-lived as it got interrupted by the doors of the Great Hall banging open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled toward the stranger. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair, and then walked up toward the teachers' table. He limped heavily toward Dumbledore.

One of his eyes was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue –obviously a magical fake –that moved ceaselessly, without blinking.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words no one could hear. Dumbledore gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

Dumbledore turned back to the students. "May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he said brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

There was scattered applause but it stopped fairly quickly, and murmurs and whispers started. Everyone seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Moody? _Mad-Eye_ Moody?" Neville asked Ron.

"Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice.

"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"

"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody, who ignored the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, who were slowly turning back to look at him, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the _Triwizard Tournament_ will be taking place at Hogwarts this year!"

The students applauded again, this time in a more respectable fashion (according to McGonagall). It was apparent that this news was well-known and many students stopped to listen to what Dumbledore had to say. "Some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

Many of the students in the Hall now started whispering excitedly to one another.

Dumbledore stated that departments in the Ministry decided to reinstate the tournament and that they have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion would find themselves in mortal danger. He continued, "The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

At every House table were people who were either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbours. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

He spoke about the age restriction on the contenders for this year. Only students of age –seventeen years or older –would be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. "This is a measure we feel is necessary," he asserted, "given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." This also, seemed to not be news to anyone. His light blue eyes twinkled.

"Now, it was traditional in earlier Tournaments for there to be only the three tasks for the three champions to complete in order to win the Triwizard Cup." He paused –possibly for effect (he was an orator after all), and then continued, "However, in order to increase participation in such an event that brings our schools together, the Boards of Governors of the three schools have, only recently, come to the agreement that the Tournament will allow anyone above the age of thirteen to participate in the _other_ two events –the _Duelling Tourney_ and the _Inter-School Quidditch Cup_!"

Every student (except most of the first-years who were still nervous at all the ruckus and a few Slytherins who didn't understand the word "fun") jumped out of their seat and roared out their exhilaration through applause. The excitement that was bubbling in the students reached new heights as rumours in _The Daily Profit_ were confirmed.

The teachers seemed delighted at the jubilation of the students, except of course ol' Professor Grease Hair (aka Snape) and Professor Moody (who seemed to be sweating?). Dumbledore smiled widely at the students until the cheering died down, and then continued.

"Now," he continued and silence fell, "in order to ensure that there is no partiality, our Quidditch Team will be selected by our Broom-riding instructor, Madam Hooch," he pointed at the teacher in question and she rose and pumped a fist in the air that made Dumbledore chuckle loudly and the crowd to go wild again. He continued and was surprisingly heard by everyone over the noise, "and the Tourney by our very own duelling master, Professor Flitwick," Dumbledore pointed at the Professor with his hand and Flitwick rose and gave a masterful bow to every House table then to the head table. Dumbledore waited for the Professor to sit back down and the crowd to settle down, all the while smiling jovially.

"The selection matches will begin taking place this week and anyone wishing to participate should register their names with their heads of houses tomorrow.

"One last thing I wish to talk to you about is that due to recent events," Dumbledore did not cite what "recent events" he was speaking of, but it seemed everyone understood, "there will be heavy security measures employed during the entirety of this tournament, some of which, I believe, you must have already come across. This has been agreed upon not only to ensure safety of the Triwizard champions but of the entire student and teacher population."

There was renewed whispering at this news. Dumbledore continued undeterred, "In any case, the measures are for your safety alone and not to hinder your enjoyment.

"Now, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in November and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected, to the Hogwarts Quidditch Team and the individual duellers selected for the Tourney."

There was a loud round of applause at his words, and Dumbledore waited for it to end, then spoke, "And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

Neville and Ron moved out the huge doors with the crowd and started walking leisurely to their common room. Neville suddenly frowned, and it seemed to him that he had forgotten something. His eyes widened and he searched the crowd for his date to the Ball. He found her being led by her friend to another part of the castle. Hannah turned to look at him and he smiled and waved. She waved back, before she was moved along with the throng of people going to the Hufflepuff room.

"Look at you, mate –all happy and excited to say goodbye to your girlfriend." Ron smiled at his friend.

"Yeah…" Neville said happily. "Wait a moment, she's not my girlfriend... At least, not yet." He blushed. "She's just… I _want_ to do things for her."

"Do things _to_ her, you mean," Ron said cheekily, and ignored Neville's sputtering. "Hmm… so did you ask her to the Ball already?"

"Erm… yeah, she said yes!"

"Nice!"

They'd reached the Gryffindor common room entrance, which was covered by a painting. Ron quickly muttered the password he'd gotten out of a prefect.

"Hey Ron, do you have a date for the Ball already?"

"I thought you were going with Hannah?" Ron smirked. At Neville's deadpan look, he replied, "Er… I don't know. I _want_ to ask someone, but I'm not sure if she'll say yes."

Neville sighed. "Look, you're a Gryffindor, right?" As Ron nodded, he continued, "Just go and do it. What's the worst that can happen? She'll reject you and you'll just have to find someone else"

"I –I guess you're right. But I can't help wonder if –"

"There you are," Hermione interrupted from behind them. "I've been talking with Angelina and she said that Madam Hooch told her to bring her team to the selection matches. Angelina was looking for a keeper, so I gave her your name, Ron."

"Oh, she's _already_ recruiting from Gryffindor?! That's great, Hermione! Thanks!" Ron started to run all over the common room looking for Angelina.

She smiled and called out,"She's gone to bed already, Ron. Something about getting up earlier for training." She frowned suddenly when Ron shook his head and came back to standing next to her. "I don't know why but the twins were being extremely friendly and asked me how "my buddy Ron" was doing," she said glancing back at the twins. "That was _weird_ , even for them."

Ron narrowed his eyes at the twins behind her back and made a slashing motion across his neck. They just grinned at him in return. He gave a short uncomfortable laugh when she turned back to him. "They didn't ask you anything else, did they?"

"Um… no, they didn't." She frowned.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Hermione raised her eyebrow and Neville stifled his laughter behind her back. Ron immediately changed topic with the subtlety of a rampaging dragon. "So… have either of you gotten any more letters from Chris?"

"No, Ron… I think he sends us all a letter each when he gets the time. I mean, he must be extremely busy, right?"

"Extremely busy doing what?" Ron asked, confused.

"Don't tell me you still haven't figured out what he's doing."

"We're still talking about _Chris Evans_ , right?" Both his friends face palmed, but he continued unbothered (after all they did that a lot around him), "He said something about travelling around to learn all he can. Wasn't he in Australia the last time he sent a letter?"

"Austria," Hermione corrected and sighed. "You _really_ don't know who he is, do you?"

"Uh... He's Chris?"

Hermione looked at him in astonishment, wondering how she could fancy such a dense mother–

"Ah mate, it's getting late." Neville interjected just as Hermione opened her mouth for a possible three-hour tongue-lashing. "Hey that rhymed," he said lamely, "Anyway, let's get some sleep. We have classes early tomorrow morning."

Hermione simply shook her head and walked up the stairs to the girls' dorms, her body shaking in repressed anger, without saying goodnight to either of them. Neville sighed heavily.

Ron shrugged. "Say Neville, do you think Hermione's mad because she thinks I'm dumb enough not to understand that Chris Evans is Harry Potter or because she thinks I'm not considerate enough of a person to know _why_ he's roaming around the world doing whatever he's doing?" Ron sighed and started walking up to the boys' dorms.

Neville looked at him with a gobsmacked expression that would not be out-of-place on a dragon that has somehow run out of fire, shook his head in amazement and followed him to their room, where his four-poster bed lay in wait.

* * *

After a while everyone had fallen asleep, but Neville was still going through everything that had gone down on this _day one_ of his fourth-year at Hogwarts –he had a date for the Yule Ball, a plan to enter the Duelling Tourney and a _year_ full of fun with his friends.

He turned and shifted, trying to ignore Ron's snores, and his eyes fell upon the empty bed of Chris Evans/Harry Potter.

As he tried to go to sleep, he wondered how his life would have been if he hadn't met Harry. Would he still have friends like Ron and Hermione? Or would he be an insignificant pain in the arse to everyone he talked to? Would he have made his grandmother proud like he had or would she still think of him as a disappointment? Would he have been a "prodigy" in Herbology?

Who was he kidding, of course he would be a prodigy in Herbology; Herbology was his _jam._

Most importantly, would he have the courage to ask Hannah to the Yule Ball?

Wait, now that Hannah probably understood that he fancied her, should he ask her out to Hogsmeade?

 _To um… "get better acquainted with her" or something._

Yeah that sounded nice; he would ask Hermione for details tomorrow.

Still, as he felt drowsiness overcome him, he wondered… would he still have the courage to stand up for himself and his friends… if he hadn't met Harry?

The storm seemed to have just decided to come in. Neville's eyes started to close and his breath deepened as rain started falling in sheets and thunderclaps scared the animals in the Forest into hiding. The flash produced by a particularly bright _lightning bolt_ with a green tinge to it went unnoticed by everyone except for an old man with electric blue eyes.

 _Maybe not. Most probably not…_

* * *

 **A/N:** Next chapter will be up soon. Sorry for taking too long, I had an actual date for Valentine's.

It was the 14th of February. *ba dum tss*

I am _so_ funny, *wipes tear from eye*


	8. Prodigal Son

**Chapter 7:** Prodigal Son

"TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT…  
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY, THE 30th OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY.  
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST,"

Ron Weasley read aloud to his friends Hermione and Neville over the heads of other students who were clamouring to look at the notice as well.

"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows. Think I'll go and tell him..."

Ernie hurried off as Ron asked his friends, "Cedric? Cedric Diggory? I mean, sure he's good on a broom, but you need more than that to get chosen for the tournament, right?"

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect."

"Yeah, right. You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only three topics of conversation, no matter where Neville went: the Tournament, the Quidditch Team and the Tourney. Rumours were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

* * *

Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers –

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Neville just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Neville saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained.

* * *

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the centre; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks -and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool...and then Neville saw the rigging…

"It's a mast!" he said to Ron and Hermione.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Neville noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle...but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

Neville missed out on the conversation between the two Headmasters because Ron kept complaining to everyone nearby about how cool it was that one of the best seekers in the world was at Hogwarts and yet how unfair it was that Hogwarts would be playing against Victor Krum.

* * *

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students, who had sat down with the Hogwarts students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

* * *

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. His toothbrush moustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly with certain other people over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions", the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet.

"From each school, the batches of ten individuals for the Duelling Tourney have already been selected. The list of the individuals has been put on the notice board for all to see." There was a lot of applause and cheering and Dumbledore waited until it died down. "The first match will take place on the 15th of December and I hope you will all support everyone who has taken part in the Tourney." There was polite applause from all three schools.

"Also, as the Hogwarts students might be aware, our Quidditch Team has already been selected," said Dumbledore, and many students cheered and whooped loudly. Dumbledore smiled at them and continued, "And so have the teams from the other schools." His eyes twinkled amusedly as he took in the mixed emotions on his students' faces. Karkaroff gave a loud chuckle, probably guessing correctly what was going on in the heads of the students.

"The first Qudditch match will take place on the 20th of December and Mr Bagman will act as referee." There was a lot of cheering at the news.

"I see that everyone is enthusiastic and eager to know who our champions are and will show up tomorrow to support them at the feast. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

* * *

"Shouldn't there be some kind of rule to prevent one person from entering more than one of the events?" Hermione contemplated out loud as she walked with her two friends to Gryffindor Tower. "They _are_ planning on increasing participation after all."

"Hey, that's right. That way we won't be beat by Victor Krum if he isn't planning on putting his name into the Goblet," said Ron, his eyes gleaming.

When the try-outs for the Quidditch Team had taken place, the whole school had turned up to watch. Ron had just been beat by the Hufflepuff, Herbert Fleet for the Keeper position; that too by just two goal saves. Madam Hooch had made him prostitute Keeper.

Ravenclaw's Cho Chang won the Seeker position on the School Team, while the Weasley twins, being the best Beaters in the school, got selected. Eurig Cadwallader from Hufflepuff, and Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell from Gryffindor had gotten appointed as Chasers for the main team.

Oddly enough (maybe for some people, at least), nobody from the Slytherin Team was given a second chance. Even the substitutes were all from the other houses alone. Whether this was intentional sabotage by the instructor after years of watching the Slytherins always practically cheat their way through the games was still on debate amongst the students who cared enough about such things.

"We don't know about that," Neville interjected. "Maybe he wants to prove to everyone that he _can_ do things other than Quidditch." He cupped his chin in thought. "I would if I were in his place."

"Yeah. Let's just hope he is going to want to do just that," said Ron.

* * *

When the trio of Gryffindors entered the candlelit Great Hall the next evening, it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table.

"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred as Ron, Neville and Hermione sat down.

"So do I!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Well, we'll soon know!"

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, Neville simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting… A few people kept checking their watches…

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered two seats away from Neville.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"YES!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Neville shook his head at Ron's _reasons_ for his elation at Krum's selection and saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore. Krum turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The girl who so resembled a veela and seemed to attract the eye of almost every boy got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Neville said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, Hermione thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next...

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the third piece of parchment, smiling the whole time. He held it out and the moment he looked at the name written upon it, his smile faded. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out –

"Harry Potter."

Neville just sat there, aware that a few heads in the Great Hall had turned to look at the trio of Gryffindors. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He must not have heard correctly.

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall. Most students were considering it as some sort of joke; some students were even standing up to get a better look at Professor Dumbledore as he stood, frozenly staring at the name on the parchment.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.

Everyone remained silent and kept looking at Dumbledore who was nodding along to whatever the Deputy Headmistress was saying. Perhaps the students were starting to realise the futility of conversation at this point.

Dumbledore straightened up and called out, "The Hogwarts Champion, Harry Potter!" he wasn't smiling anymore. He looked around at the gathered crowd of students and called out "Harry Potter!" once again. He met with silence once more.

Just as he shook his head and gestured to the other judges to follow him to the small room adjacent, the Goblet fired up again.

* * *

Astoria Malfoy was happy. No, she was elated.

When Astoria had been informed of her impending marriage to Lucius Malfoy at the age of nine, she had lost it completely. She had started crying in despair at her doomed fate. Her sister had to force her to drink some Dreamless Sleep potion in order for her to sleep peacefully.

All her life, she'd been taught how to deal with that _one day_ when she would be married off to some rich, pureblood guy with a lot of political connections.

And when the day had come, moments before her marriage, she had simply pretended to be sick and fainted. She was such an innocent little girl back then. Some would say she still was.

They had revived her amidst many tears and meaningless apologies and the marriage went forward anyway.

Sure, Lucius was a handsome man. But there was the problem… he was a man, while she was still a little girl. She was nine when she had gotten married. Even her elder sister, Daphne, was only fifteen now.

Her grandfather probably spared Daphne the trouble of all this in order to ensure that the Greengrass wealth didn't fall into Lucius' hands.

What she still didn't fully understand was what had happened just moments after she had gotten married. She had just stood there –after flinching back from the kiss she had gotten from the man old enough to be her father.

And then someone had come near them, to presumably wish the newly married couple a long and lively life, and said this instead, "I truly hope you have had a _dynamite_ wedding, Mr Malfoy."

Just as Lucius had turned to look at the "well-wisher", he had gotten blasted away with such force, that he had impacted a wall _and_ broke through it.

"Because now it is time for me to… _crash_ the party!" the man had roared out, and laughed like a maniac. She had watched open-mouthed in awe, too stunned to do anything. He had then pointed his wand into the sky and called out, "Morsmordre!"

The hilarious expressions of the wedding-goers was simply too beautiful to describe. Most stared at the Dark Mark in the sky open-mouthed in terror and confusion. No one had thought to do anything but stare at the man or at the Mark. This continued for a while until Lord Greengrass came to his senses had pulled out his wand and fired a spell that missed the man by inches. This brought out a new wave of pandemonium as most people began running towards the exit and the Death Eater pals of the Malfoys brought out their wands and started firing at the man as well. The "party-crasher" had then simply grabbed her and apparated away.

Astoria remembered looking around the place as they came to a rest; she just took enough time to note that the place was familiar to her, before she pushed the man away and started to run. She may have been nine then, but even she knew she was in trouble. But, she had suddenly lost control of her body and found that she was petrified.

The man had looked at her with barely concealed amusement and she could do nothing but stare at him in fear as his features began to turn from a pot-bellied balding man to a handsome blonde-haired man with sky-blue eyes right in front of her.

"Polyjuice," he had explained, as though that cleared everything up.

"Who are you and what are you going to do with me?" She had asked in faux-courage, inwardly terrified of the beautiful hunk of man-meat in front of her.

"Don't worry, _Lady_ Malfoy," he'd said, smirking at her. "Your Aunt will be here soon."

"Wait, my-my aunt?" She had asked in not a little confusion and fear.

"Yes, your Aunt. She'll be here soon enough." He had smiled at her disarmingly. "I'll let you down now… _if_ you promise to stay put until your aunt gets here."

After she had nodded, in a very timid manner, he had released her and they waited in extremely uncomfortable silence until her Aunt Ariana had come stumbling out of the Floo. She had immediately run towards her niece and hugged her tightly. Astoria was still coming down from her adrenaline rush, but did manage to hug her back.

"Did he do it?" the blonde-haired man had interrupted the reunion.

"No, he claimed we did it specifically so that he would sign the divorce on his end… but he isn't going to," the older brunette had replied, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Shite!" His eyes had narrowed and his expression had turned serious. "Well… he's not the idiot we thought he was." He had rubbed his face in frustration.

"Apparently so," Ariana had replied softly, stroking her niece's hair to comfort her.

"Hmm… I guess she'll have stay with us, then."

"Auntie, what–who is this man? What are you talking about?" 9-year old Astoria had asked.

Ariana had looked into her eyes and said gently, "I'm sorry dear, but this is your uncle, my husband… Gilderoy Lockhart."

Twelve-year old _Julia_ Lockheart was currently scribbling away at some parchment as she copied down the important points from her rough notes onto her essay. Her natural brown hair was now dyed blonde like her sister.

She had come to realise a long time ago that her "Mom"/Aunt and her "Dad" were doing everything they could to make sure she was safe and out of the filthy Death Eater hands of the Malfoys.

But she couldn't help but curse the man who pretended to be her father for not allowing her to communicate with her sister or her grandfather. She cursed the pureblood laws and she cursed the unfairness of it all.

When she had been at home, she was forbidden from even writing a _single-line_ message to her sister or her grandfather that she was safe; because if she did, Darius would be forced to reveal whatever he knew to the Malfoys since it was an ancient pureblood law to give back a runaway bride to the groom or to at least give them any information they had on her whereabouts.

The contract between her and Lucius had also been made in the true pureblood way; _both_ parties needed to sign to void the contract.

Lord Darius was fully ready with quill and ink to sign it. However, despite the Greengrasses continuously claiming unawareness of the whereabouts of Astoria, the Malfoys did not trust them in the slightest and blamed them for her escape. They asserted that it was their fault for being unable to keep the girl in line.

The marriage ceremony, which bore the first sighting of the Dark Mark since the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, naturally became a hotspot for half the country's Aurors to converge upon and they took in all the "marked" individuals who were dumb enough to stay there to watch what happened next. Everybody and their mother present there was arrested by an order from the terrified Minister Fudge.

This obviously was one of the most sensational news of all time and the _flight of the bride_ (as they were calling it, instead of the kidnapping that it was), lead to much profit being made by the newspapers, which kept referring to it every alternate day for about a month and a half in an obvious attempt at money-making.

Lucius Malfoy had to discretely channel a lot of coin into a lot of coffers to keep the newspapers from shredding his reputation to threads. Some of the more bold newspapers were even starting to talk about his _unappealing_ looks and even his _repulsing_ demeanour before he had stepped on their advances with the help of the dumb Minister, who still thought Lucius was his friend. He had also proven his superiority over his peers by releasing every marked Death Eater from lock-up by citing insufficient evidence.

While all this was happening, unknown to everyone save three, Astoria had been sent to Beauxbatons for her magical studies. She did make a few friends, but mostly kept out of the spotlight.

She had planned on travelling with the champions' delegation to Hogwarts for the Tournament this year, but did not make it due to the age restrictions. She did, however manage to send a large, carefully written letter to Daphne with one of the friendlier girls in the upper years and she was hoping for a response any day now.

Now that a letter had finally been sent to her sister, she felt free and happy. No, not just happy–elated.

* * *

Harry Potter stared impassively at his once-Headmaster Dumbledore… and kept staring until the old man began to get uncomfortable.

"So you're telling me that _someone_ put my name into this Fire Goblet–"

"Goblet of Fire, dear child," the Professor corrected with a smile. _Once a teacher..._

"Fire Goblet sounds cooler," Harry argued petulantly as he folded his arms against his chest. "So anyway," he continued as Dumbledore gave a loud sigh, "I absolutely have to compete in this tournament, then? There's no way out?" He narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore, as though he were hiding something.

"Yes, you have to compete. No, there's no way out unless you want to lose your magic and/or die."

Harry sat down heavily in the throne-like chair that Dumbledore had so thoughtfully conjured for him. For a while neither of them spoke, both understanding the severity of the situation.

"Well, I really like how you said 'and/or'," another voice spoke out from behind them. "As in, you don't really know which of those will _actually_ happen," Sirius Black said and immediately held up a hand as Dumbledore started to speak. "Yes, I know, I know– it can't be anything good."

The three settled into comfortable, yet grave silence as Dumbledore sipped his tea and his two companions contemplated the dreadful news that he had brought to them personally, instead of settling for just the owl he had sent earlier to inform them of his arrival.

"We are conducting a full investigation into the matter," Dumbledore continued. "And also into how exactly someone was able to put your name into the Goblet in the midst of all that security. But even now, it is not certain who the culprit is," informed Dumbledore. "You would have gotten this from any newspaper, but I see now that I assumed correctly that you would be unable to do so." His electric-blue eyes seemed stuck on a spot on one of the gigantic mountains of the Himalayas opposite them. "In any case, I wanted to make sure that you got the full facts of the events that occurred there." He turned to look at Harry and added, "And to keep my promise to you, as well."

There was a tense silence before Sirius cleared his throat and spoke up, "So anyway, to summarize, we _know_ it's all been planned by Voldemort–"

"Because he has a weird fetish for Halloween and over-complicated plots that usually don't work against me?" Harry interrupted.

Dumbledore and Sirius stared at Harry. "What? You know it's the truth."

Dumbledore chuckled, Sirius grinned and just like that, the tense atmosphere was broken, replaced with one that was packed with energy and years of rapport.

"Right... so, he obviously has someone inside Hogwarts that the wards don't register as a threat to the safety of the students," Sirius continued.

Dumbledore looked bewildered for a moment before schooling his features, though neither of the two others took notice. He definitely should have a ward like that incorporated into the schemes ASAP. It would make the students safer and keep threats to safety out. Yes, definitely should have thought of that sooner.

"It's the Defense Professor," Harry supplied, then sighed as the older men stared at him again. "It's _always_ the Defense Professor, alright."

"Alastor has my confidence, Harry." Dumbledore stated. When the other two turned to stare at the old man, he quickly added, "But we'll give him a once-over, if you wish." They nodded but kept sending suspicious glances at the Headmaster.

Harry yawned as he stared off the narrow mountain cliff on which they were having tea and biscuits like true Englishmen–manly yet not too overly sophisticated.

Dumbledore glanced at Sirius, and then looked back at Harry. "So you accept the honour of representing Hogwarts as its champion?"

"I'll do it," said Harry after a long pause. "Guess there's no way out of this. Stupid binding contract!" He shook his head in exasperation, then looked at Dumbledore with pleading eyes. "But I still need something in return if _you_ want to save face."

Sirius raised an eyebrow as Dumbledore motioned for him to continue. "For starters, expel Malfoy and fire Snape. Is that okay?" Dumbledore shook his head. "But why? You must admit they're both as annoying as rabid fan girls, except in a completely different way." Dumbledore nodded. "So you'll remove them because they're annoying and I said so? I knew there was a reason I loved–" Dumbledore shook his head again. "–okay fine, whatever. Is there going to be some sort of formal… dance or something that I need to be involved in?" At Dumbledore's nod, he said, "Find someone else to do it."

"You're about to face unknown dangers and the first thing you want gone is the Ball dance?" Harry shrugged and Sirius snorted. "Harry, it's tradition for the champions to open the Yule Ball with a dance. If you don't, you'll probably end up disrespecting or embarrassing the school."

"Okay fine," he sighed heavily. "So basically, I'm doing this–this _tournament_ where I can kick the bucket at any time… for free?"

"Well… you're going to get honour and glory for yourself and your school and a thousand galleons in prize money if you win," Dumbledore offered.

"Basically everything I already have," Harry sighed sadly. "Fine, for Hogwarts then." He raised his teacup and two others clunked it with theirs. "For Hogwarts," they repeated, as they watched the sun set.

They sat for a few moments in silence before Dumbledore said, "You know, I was almost convinced this was some sort of prank you'd both pulled somehow." He reclined comfortably in his conjured beach-chair.

"Indeed? Pray tell… how?" Sirius asked.

"There was a fourth parchment," Dumbledore said mysteriously.

"What did it say?" Harry sighed at always having to pull the answer from Dumbledore's mouth.

"The fourth champion of the Triwizard Tournament, ironic as that may be, was supposed to be… _Harry Potter._ "

"What?" Harry frowned.

"What?" Sirius frowned.

"Yes," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling madly, "The Fourth Triwizard Champion was also supposed to be you. Apparently, someone put your name into the Goblet twice, once as a Hogwarts student and then again as a student of a _different_ school as a fail-safe in case the Goblet did not deem you worthy to represent Hogwarts."

There was silence for a while as they digested this new information. Then, Harry's curiosity bubbled to the surface and he asked, "Then what happened?"

"The parchment burnt to a crisp right in front of my eyes."

"So does that mean the Goblet isn't _completely_ wacky?" Sirius asked. Dumbledore face took on a thoughtful expression, then he nodded.

"Well, that clears that up then," Sirius remarked sarcastically.

"Wait, so the Goblet _actually_ thinks I'm the best student to represent Hogwarts out of all the seventh-years there?" Harry smirked arrogantly.

"Here we go again..." Sirius gave a long suffering sigh, then got up to go to bed, as Dumbledore and his favourite pupil began their battle of wits.

* * *

 **A/N:** THE END! Actually no, not really. **Hiatus until April** , (which cannot really be called a hiatus, unless it's the April of next year in which case, sure!) because... reasons. How did I have time to write this note and yet was not able to complete the next chapter? Believe me, the _things_ I do for you readers...

For Review responses, I'm gonna do a general one, which should appease most reviewers' fears and questions:

~So, you're saying that Astoria being married to Lucius is ridiculous and makes no sense since Ariana _exists._ Well, don't worry, she was kidnapped before the consummation of the marriage; I'm not that kind of an pervert. Notice how I don't allude to me not being a pervert at all? Huehuehue.

~Besides, what have I _actually_ told you about _anything_ really about the Greengrass family? That it contains Darius, Astoria, Daphne, Ariana and Madeline. And they had a contract of marriage with the Malfoy family. That's about it. I haven't even revealed all the characters yet. OCs to be made, plotholes to be filled... This is just the beginning, my faithful minio- er... readers. Keep reading. All shall be revealed in due time.

~The jumping around and time-skips are confusing? Well, it has a purpose– to keep you in the dark, obviously. Duh!

~Harry's animagus is not a lion. The last part has obviously been rewritten. Because I was sleepy as hell when I wrote it, obviously. Not that this iteration is any better. *fishes for compliments by being pathetic*

~"Chris Evans" because it just came to me, like Harry Potter came to JK Rowling. Evans is his mother's family name also. What can I say, you'll find out later _exactly how_ Harry got that name.

~ **PaC** : Dude, chill. I loved your reviews. I never knew Sirius-bashing was a thing. There was never any Sirius-bashing in my story. Well, it wasn't intended anyway.  
So many things I just want to reveal to you in response to your review, but it will ruin the story for others. And don't worry, the upcoming chapters will be much much longer and have more quality content.

Peace Out, homies.

Wait, about the "prostitute" typo... Why in the world does everyone seem to think I would even _think_ of _correcting_ such a glorious mistake?

 **A/N 2:** For those who are reading this before reading Chapter 8, don't waste your time, it is incomplete. _How_ incomplete, you ask? Like, really really incomplete. You don't wanna read it.


	9. Not really a chapter but Important

**Chapter 8:** Not really a Chapter

 **A/N:** The last part of the previous chapter was pretty unclear before, now it's slightly less unclear.

This is to put something out there so those who've read the story before will go check out the previous chapter again. My sincerest apologies. This chapter will stay until my hiatus stands, but I'll post the new chapter soon-ish. April 1st week or so. You gotta wait until then.

Chapters will get longer because I'll have more free time then. And I'll post more frequently, like once every week, instead of once every three months.

So thank you for reading this, and I'm extremely sorry to keep you waiting. But you gotta do what you gotta do.


End file.
